Thaumaturgic Awakening
by Xylix
Summary: Enforcer Contract #CIL201009-6: Investigation of possible interdimensional threat: Type-D. This request has been jointly commissioned by the Roman Catholic Church and the Mage's Association. Contract Signed, Rin Tohsaka, Enforcer Unit 09.
1. Chapter 1

_**AN** : This is a divergence fic with the main perspective set to Taylor's. Unlike my preferred method of 'nuke the plot', this fic drifts from canon more slowly. So expect some scene repetition, as it takes time for the butterfly's flap to transform into a hurricane._

 _Rest assured, however, that I have no intention of retelling Worm's main story._

 _When_ _reading this fic, basic knowledge of Worm through volume 1 is_ _highly recommended_ _. General knowledge of Worm and Fate/Stay_ _N_ _ight_ _(especially the UBW route) is_ _suggested_ _, but not required._

 _ **Rated: '**_ _Mature' because it is not fucking Worm if I can't use fuck._

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 1**  
-oOo-

I had always dreamed I could fly. Ever since I was a kid, I had wished to be a hero like Alexandria. To be able to roam the skies, go wherever I wanted. Freedom.

This was not that kind of flight.

I tumbled through the air, vomiting blood into my mask. The ribs on my right side creaked, rolling underneath my skin like broken sticks in a bag of flesh. What? My brain rebooted and desperately tried to make sense of the world.

Oh. I remembered now. Lung. Lung had been aiming for a bunch of kids. I tried to stop him. Emphasis on tried. The fight went wrong. He made it up to the roof. I shot at his face with my pepper spray.

The propellant combusted and the spray disintegrated.

Then Lung struck.

That was all I recalled before plowing bodily through the first floor window of a convenience store. My shoulders hit the metal frame dividing panes of glass. It held for an instant.

 _Crash! T-t-t-tink._

Glass fragments rained down, tinkling like Christmas bells. I hit smooth tile in an uncontrolled tumble, rolled two meters then slid a third. I slowed to a stop at the feet of an Asian woman. She had long, sleek black hair that reached her waist. For an infinite moment I admired her elegant, lady-like form. It was everything a tall, scrawny girl like me had always wished for.

Then her bright blue eyes widened in surprise.

Lung.

I opened my mouth to shout a warning. A gurgling sound escaped as blood bubbled up from deep within my airways. My legs were numb. I could not feel a full half of my body. I babbled again, tears pooling in my eyes. Was this how I died? Killed by Lung on my first night out, dragging a shocked civilian with me?

I whimpered. An incredible sense of helplessness swept over me.

A deep roar sounded in the night. In my dull witted state, I had sent a swarm of cockroaches toward Lung's face. The dragon man swept them out of the sky with a wave of conjured fire. He seemed disoriented. Hurriedly, I redoubled my effort, striking at an angle in hope of drawing Lung's attention away from the convenience store.

With Lung still a human pyre, I did not have much hope it would work.

The woman jerked toward the broken window, her eyes narrowing into sudden slits. With one smooth motion she stooped, seized my arm, and dragged me into an aisle and out of sight.

"I have been spending too much time around Shirou," the woman muttered under her breath.

The brunette crouched over me and fumbled with her purse. Outside, Lung tore through my bugs with a whirlwind of fire. Whatever made him lose his bearings, he had them now. He lumbered toward the two of us and was certain to see the broken window of the convenience store. I gurgled again. _Run_. I struggled to convey my thoughts, but my body refused my instructions.

The black haired woman placed a small jewel over my chest then muttered a phrase in German. Light. My eyes blurred. I blinked, clearing my vision. For an instant, the Asian's arm glowed. The woman held her hand against my chest, offering a kind smile. Cool relief washed through me. Though, fogged up as my head was, I could not be sure that I was not seeing things.

I probably had a concussion.

Scratch that. I _definitely_ had a concussion.

 _Crash!_

Lung hit the ground with earth splintering force. He was even bigger and badder than before. Eleven feet tall and shrouded in a haze of flame. The last remnants of his cloths clung to tree trunk thick legs in shreds that were little more than charcoaled embers. The rest of his skin was exposed. Except it was not so much skin as it was scales. The silvery, metallic armor wrapped Lung's flesh, shimmering in the fire light. His mouth opened, all four parts separating in a monstrous X.

The rows of teeth inside would have made an Eldritch horror proud.

" _Gh... Gh..._ ," I gurgled in panic.

The brunette glanced toward the sound, then promptly threw me over her shoulder as though I were a sack of potatoes.

I gurgled a hysterical laugh. In a sudden, silly thought, I remembered that this was exactly what the medical books said not to do with if someone had a broken back. I bet they were not thinking of _this_ kind of situation when they said that.

" _Ound oou_ ," Lung growled, sounding more like an animal than a person.

The giant dragon-man stomped into the store, batting aside glass and metal. The Asian woman jolted forward, a sprinter bursting off the blocks. I grunted from the sudden impulse as we flashed across the aisles, tangential to the threat. We crossed Lung's view. The woman's free arm slung out, fingers poised as though she were a child pretending she had a play gun.

What she unleashed was very real.

The brunette's arm lit up with green circuits. A bulb of darkness formed at the tip. _Rat-tat-tat._ It was not so much a gun as a gatling. Flashes of darkness crossed the store, inky black in fluorescent light. The half aimed shots sawed through milk, boxes, cans, and bread. A dozen blasts ripped across Lung's chest, splashing like water on his scales. Two caught the gaps and tore away globs of flesh.

Lung jerked back with a howl, giving the Asian plenty of time to reach the back door.

If I had any doubt that the woman was a cape, what came next cleared that right up. Without slowing a single step, the woman lifted a leg and kicked. _Bang!_ It was as though a cannon went off. One instant a steel door barred our path. The next, a folded metal plate was embedded deep inside the brick wall opposite our building.

The dark haired woman entered the alley and took a sharp left.

Lung ripped his way into convenience store, tearing though aisles with the finesse of a bulldozer. The fire alarm went off, drenching the building in a deluge of water.

Lung's fire went out.

He was vulnerable.

My head was suddenly clear. With all my will, I _pulled_. A river of bugs filled the room. I had not been idle while the Asian woman worked to save me. Ever since he wiped out my first swarm on the roofs, I had been gathering bugs. Hundreds of thousands of bugs.

I dropped the horde on Lung's head.

Insects poured from the building's ceiling tiles in a curtain of writhing, chitinous flesh. Tiny legs clutched at the the dragon man's scales, pulling themselves flush, searching for tiny gaps to scramble under. The water hurt as much as it helped. Though it cooled Lung's flame, it washed insects away by the thousand. But the ones that made it dug in. Pincers gnashed at Lung's eyes while fangs pierced his exposed flesh. A centipedes crawled into his nose, while other creatures wiggled their way into his ears.

Lung went mad.

The now thirteen foot dragon-man tore through the building's wall, flailing and roaring in rage. He exploded. The pillar of flame stretched higher than the roofs. The alley filled with blinding light, annihilating half my swarm in an instant.

The brunette suddenly twisted, the motion so fast my body jiggled with the motion. A lance of white hot pain speared into my upper neck. _Sh-shink_. A pair of swords flashed from the woman's hands and pierced clean through Lung's legs. Then with effortless motion, she danced down a side alley.

Behind us Lung was howling. When I reformed my swarm, I realized why. The Asian had turned his legs to stone. The furious beast clawed at his own limbs. Tearing them free from their entombment. Lung flopped to the ground, then unhesitantly pulled himself forward with his clawed hands as though he were a Hollywood horror.

The stubbed fragments of his legs were already regrowing.

In a fit of inspiration, I formed a hazy clone resembling the two off us and mimed it heading in the opposite direction. Lung tore after my bugs in pursuit.

Tilting her head, the woman slowed. Shifting her grip, she maneuvered my limp body into a more comfortable piggyback position.

"You okay back there?"

I blinked. Absently, I continued to tease Lung, drawing him further away. My tactic would not last for long. Sooner or later Lung would listen rather look.

Unable to speak, I fashioned nearby moths into a thumbs up.

The Asian woman accepted my message without question. "Now that I have a better grip, I am going to move a bit faster. Try to keep your neck stiff. Once I find somewhere safe to put you, I will outflank him."

Outflank Lung! Was she insane?

A tactic like that might have worked at the start of the fight. But Lung's power made him stronger the longer the battle dragged on. At this point, he was virtually invincible. In terms of strength, toughness, and regeneration he was greater than before. And though Lung was big, his strength scaled more quickly than his size, so he was faster too. Worse, if Parahumans Online was right, Lung would soon grow himself a pair of wings. If that happened, we were cooked.

My moths formed a thumbs down. Then I split the swarm and created three more downward thumbs for emphasis.

This was a very bad idea.

The brunette, apparently, did not give a shit. Reaching back, she gripped my head with her free hand. Then, in a maneuver that would have made a ninja blush, she jumped, ricocheting off the alley walls to land atop a roof three stories high.

And that, Lung, was how you climb a building.

A flare rippled through the night. Lung had found my first then my second bug clone and murdered them both. I formed a third and sent it skittering down another alley. Unfortunately, that game had come to an end. With a frustrated roar, the now fifteen foot tall monster stilled himself and used his ears.

Every cricket in a two block radius chirped.

When a dozen crickets sang it was loud. When several thousand worked together to make a cacophony the sound was deafening. The ringing was enough to make me wince. Lung slammed clawed hands over his hands over his ears and roared.

So much for super-hearing, I thought viciously.

The woman unslung me from her back and set my limp body against an air condition unit. Her arm glowed green.

" _W_ _ickeln mit wind_ ," she chanted, sweeping her hand over me. The air wavered, shimmering as though warped by heat.

The Asian crouched at my side.

"Do you know where he is?"

I formed an arrow of moths that pointed in Lung's general direction. Then I drew the flight into the universal of symbol for 'No'.

The woman merely nodded. "Give me a moment, then draw him up."

And again, she ignored me. I was beginning to sense a pattern.

Unfortunately, we didn't have a moment. Wings burst from Lung's back. With a great lunge, Lung leapt from the alley. He rose into the darkened sky like a fiery comet. Lung twisted through the night, closer to a serpent than a man. His head angled, finding us in an instant.

The brunette opened fire.

It was impossible to see the black bullets against the darkened sky and I was not facing in the right direction besides. Instead, I felt them. The blasts cut through my swarm, causing insects to curdle at the merest touch. Whatever the attack was, it did not do more than piss Lung off. The monster surged forward, swimming through the air as he unleashed a brilliant jet of flame.

A searing deluge of fire hit the roof and rolled over in a radiant blaze. The heat pressed against my costume, heating my mask until it burned at the touch. I squinted against the light, half blind.

The brunette dodged with surprising grace. With a single bound, she crossed the gap between buildings. Another pulse of inky shots flashed through the night. This time I could see Lung clearly and watched as the bullets shattered on his scales.

Lung dropped to the roof. Clawed hands and feet smashed into the concrete, cutting deep grooves into the stone. I held my breath in terror. The dragon man was no more than ten feet from me. Frankly, I was shocked that he had not seen me already.

I guess luck had finally turned to my favor.

" _Aiiihurrr_ ," Lung roared.

The dragon breathed a wave of fire. The blaze twisted in mid air, spitting into a pair of streams before blanketing the opposite roof in a sea of red. If Lung thought that was enough to end the brunette he was mistaken. The woman answered with lance of primordial darkness. The atramentous shaft smashed into Lung's chest, tore clean through silvery scales, then exploded out the other side, taking a fist full of bloody flesh with it.

Lung growled, spread his wings, then-

… puked his guts out.

It was not fire. What Lung spat up was his actual lunch – stomach acid, wiggling insects and all. The dragon wobbled on his feet. It was only then that I realized how shaky he was.

A second dark lance ripped through the blaze. Lung dived to the side, tucking himself into a tight roll to evade the attack. My mind sharpened. He was scared. Why? I strained my eyes, trying to get a clearer glimpse. His prior wounds had already sealed themselves. Lung had nothing to worry about. The longer this fight dragged on, the stronger he would become.

He should have this one in the bag.

But he didn't.

The bugs. When the Asian's attack brushed by, my bugs curled up and died. I had mistaken the effect for something like decay. Instead, the effect was closer to a disease. Her attack did more than put holes in people. It made them sick.

And Lung's super healing did shit against illness.

If that was the case, all the poison my spiders had pumped into Lung at the start of the fight must have made his day a whole lot worse.

The combination had formed into a deadly decoction. Instead of getting faster, Lung was getting slower. If he was vomiting already, how many more hits like that could he take? One. Maybe two?

Lung came to the same conclusion. The dragon pressed himself against the ground, lowering his profile so he could not be hit. His claws tore into the roof, hewing away at the stone. He lifted a hand then drove it into rock. Standing anew, he raised the hunk of concrete that was almost ten feet wide. With jury rigged shield in place, the dragon charged the woman.

If he got close, it was over.

Better not let that happen then.

My swarm twisted. The closest to the Asian shifted into a broad arrow, indicating that she should circle around. Then I promptly threw the every last insect I could scrounge right into Lung's face.

There was no way my swarm could touch him. What they could do was die. Messily. Moths, roaches, and crickets hit a wall of fire then burst like popcorn. The flow was so thick, that the blaze in front of Lung turned into an opaque sheet of fire. The dragon growled in frustration, then swept the sky with white hot flames.

My bugs died by the thousands.

But the damage was done.

The Asian woman reached my roof just as Lung crossed over to hers. Lung turned. She turned. The brunette was faster. A third black spear blasted out, piercing through Lung's midsection. The dragon's guts detonated, bursting out through both ends. Lung howled with fury, then threw his impromptu shield.

The brunette rolled under the attack to stop in a stable firing position.

As the same time, Lung jumped across the gap. The dragon did not so much land as crash onto the roof. He rolled painfully over the concrete, scrambling with clawed feet to avoid the hole he cut earlier. He pulled himself upright, standing eighteen feet tall.

Then his wings wilted off.

The brunette observed the shaking dragon, arm held out as though it were a gun. Glowing green circuits criss-crossed her flesh. A giant orb of darkness was held in place at her finger tip, circles with strange writing surrounding.

It took me a second to realize why she was waiting. She was trying to decide whether Lung needed another shot.

Lung saw that as weakness and charged.

A black blast tore the dragon's arm clean off.

The final attack proved to much. Lung fell flat on his face. He vomited again. Dry heaves with minimal liquid. Scales fell from his skin like rain. He tried to stand. But faltered. He was getting smaller. Sixteen feet. Fifteen. Fourteen. His great girth vanished in seconds.

That sight removed the last of the Asian's worry. She all but strutted up to the fallen cape then arrogantly kicked him onto his back.

It was too far away to hear clearly, but I somehow picked up the gist of their conversation.

"...-ber you... ill... ou... kill... -amily... kill... -bout."

Lung spat threats at the woman. If she felt anything, she showed no sign of it. She glared down at the defeated warrior, her five-foot-six body towering over Lung's eight-foot frame.

"For- ... -rything."

Lung slumped. His shrinking body picked up speed. The last scales sloughed off his flesh while claws retracted into fingers. Lung's monstrous form was restored to that of a mere human.

I let out a breath of relief.

My eyes were immediately occluded by tears.

I was paralyzed. I could feel nothing in my legs or trunk. I could breath. I could move my arms. A little bit anyway, so there was that. As bad as that sounded, this was a world of parahumans. Injuries like mine could be fixed. But would Panacea have the time for a small time hero like me? Would I even survive long enough to see her? For all I knew, my insides had been turned into a sea of blood and I would die before reaching an emergency room.

 _Crunch_.

A trio of massive animals hit the roof. The beasts were bigger than full sized cars. Muscles and bone protruded through skin, giving them the appearance of horror movie monsters. Slavering jaws hung wide, dripping with saliva.

I could almost imagine it sizzling when it hit the ground.

The few muscles I could move in my upper body tightened. I concentrated, pulling up what insects I could. I was short on fliers, having burned through most of them – literally – during the fight with Lung. I used what remained of my winged insects to transport as many of the creepy-crawlers onto the roof as was possible.

My rescuer turned, facing the intruders with a cautious patience.

A teenager in a white mask and silver coronet let out a low whistle, the alien-lizard-tiger thing adjusting underneath him. The creature maneuvered itself so that it and its brethren formed semi-circle around the fallen Lung.

"Holy shit. Is that Lung?"

The lithe, white masked teen leaned down from his mount and poked Lung's unconscious form with an ornate scepter. _Bzzzt!_ Lung's body jumped in response, causing me to startle.

Was that a taser?

"Yep. He's out cold," said the teen as he straightened up.

"The fuck happened to him?"

Next to speak was a girl wearing a cheap, plastic rottweiler mask. She had a bulky frame, square, hardened and muscled. Unfortunate. She would never be a looker, but no one would accuse her of being fat.

"Blaster power, hits with physical wounds plus sickness. Top that off with bee stings, fire ants, and..." The third speaker, a blonde with long, windblown hair, trailed off. She twisted, scanning the area with her eyes. Her gaze swept the roof twice before stopping on me. Her lips twisted into a sudden, vulpine grin. "Oh. That's interesting."

"And you are?" the Asian asked, her voiced edged with irritation.

"Sorry about that. We didn't mean to ignore you, but it was hard overlook Lung with him lying on the ground like that."

The last of the quartet dismounted. He was a big man dressed in motorcycle leathers. His mask was full-faced and sculpted into the shape of a stylized skull. He offered the brunette a hand.

"I am Grue and those three are Regent, Bitch, and Tattletale," Grue introduced. "Oh, and don't worry about your identity. We will keep our mouths shut. With what you did here, you really saved us a lot of trouble."

The brunette's eyes narrowed. "This was your fight."

Grue winced. "Yeah. It was. We owe you one."

The blue eyed woman scrutinized Grue a moment longer.

"Rin," she said. Then she flipped her hair and headed over to me.

Grue reluctantly dropped his hand. He nudged Lung with his foot. "He going to die?"

"No, but his crotch might rot off," Tattletale said with a grin. She motioned toward the brunette with her head. "And Rin over there is worried about the second cape."

"Second cape?"

Grue and the others looked around confused. _"_ _Z_ _erstreuen_ _"_ Rin chanted while waving a glowing arm over me. The air wavered again. All at once, three pairs of eyes locked onto me.

Finally it dawned on me. I had been invisible. No wonder Lung had failed to notice.

"Stranger as well as Blaster," Grue muttered under his breath. The skull masked man stepped forward and held out a hand. "Grue."

I stared, not moving. I probably wouldn't have moved had I been able. And didn't that clear up any doubts I had that I was not a people person? There were probably not many out there that found themselves thinking, good thing I am paralyzed, cause otherwise I would embarrass myself by being shy.

Time to face the facts, I was never going to be the life of the party.

"She can't move, Grue. Class 5 Tetraplegia," Tattletale's head turned and the smile was wiped off her lips. "Cape inbound. We've got 1 minute."

Rin knelt at my side then scooped me onto her back. I used what little muscle control I had to hold myself in position. The brunette turned toward the others.

"You made me clean up your mess. Fix it."

Know how some girls can do that thing where they could sound all sickly sweet, while conveying gut wrenching anger? It was a gift I had never nurtured. Rin. She had it in spades.

"We'll provide a distraction," Grue answered. The skull masked man turned his gaze toward the others to confirm their agreement.

Tattletale flashed a smile while Regent gave a shrug in response. Bitch, folded her arms stubbornly. When the others glared at her, she turned her head dismissively.

"Do whatever the fuck you want," Bitch declared.

"Need a lift?" Grue offered, gesturing toward the alien monsters.

"She's not sitting on my fucking dogs."

Dogs? Those were dogs?

Nightmare made flesh, I would believe. Lovecraftian horrors, no questions asked. If I were exceptionally generous – and squinted – I might have accepted that the creatures were the result of a Tinker's effort to crossbreed a tiger and a lizard.

But dogs?

I stared in disbelief.

"Bitch...," Grue growled under his breath.

"I will be fine on my own," Rin said with chilling sweetness.

I swore I saw the other four shiver.

"Good luck then," Grue said. The darkly dressed man vaulted onto his mount then made a broad gesture toward his group. "We are the Undersiders. Look us up. We owe you one for this, and the Undersiders pay their dues. Don't forget it."

The alien monsters – _dogs_ – turned and rushed out into the night. The creatures effortlessly bound across the gaps between buildings, flowing over the skyline as easily as a car navigated the streets. Rin moved in the opposite direction, crossing five roofs before descending into an alley below. It was not a smooth ride, but I gave her credit for making it a hell of lot less bumpy than when we were running from Lung.

Left in the silence, my thoughts turned inward. Paralysis. Panacea. My Dad. Tears filled my eyes a second time. Was I going to be a cripple for life? Was this it? The end of my story.

I tried to dismiss those feelings but given how shitty my life had been as of late it was a hard thing to do.

Caught up in my drama, I hardly noticed when Rin set me on the ground.

" _Gh... Gh...,_ " I gurgled.

I grimaced in frustration. Whatever had broken during the fall was still broken now. Come to think of it, I was starting to feel dizzy. Blood loss? I could breath, so it probably was not blood filling my lungs. Well, I hoped it was not blood flooding my lungs.

Now there was a cheery thought. If I died now, I would not have to explain what happened to my Dad.

Then my gut twisted. More tears. Losing Mom had all but broken my father. How would he deal with losing his daughter as well?

"Now what am I going to do with you?"

The woman tilted my chin up so that I was staring straight into her eyes. They were not the kindly, wide eyes of before, but narrowed slits that conveyed a conniving cunning. A chill swept over me. For the first time I realized that I didn't know anything about the woman standing in front of me.

"I have been looking for an opportunity to dissect a parahuman," Rin mused. Her lips quirked into an evil smile. Then the brunette sighed, her expression falling in lament. "But those two would never allow it. And I suppose Shirou would never let me do things by parts, so I am going to have to fix you up as well, as if I hadn't missed enough sleep already."

Rin's grumbling trailed off. Her eyes sharpened. "You owe me for this."

" _Gh..._ ," I noised in agreement.

My head felt foggy. I found myself staring into Rin's blue eyes. Such a brilliant blue. Clear as water and deeper than the ocean. They were beautiful eyes. The kind that you could sink into until they swallowed you whole.

It was only belatedly that I realized that eyes should not glow in the dark.

By then, I was already asleep.

-oOo-

My first breath brought comfort, dismissing the embers of dream. It had been a nasty one. Lung had caught up to me. But instead of being saved, I had lain helpless in the convenience store as he tore off my limbs one by one. The nightmare then transitioned to my funeral. Strangely, all the events had been mixed with memories of my Mom's. Dad had been there, so angry. He had yelled at my corpse, demanding to know why I had not told him. Why I had not joined the Wards.

I woke up feeling sick.

For the first few seconds I shook. Then I remembered. Lung. Rin. The convenience store. A plethora of questions assaulted me. What happened? How did I get back home? Was I paralyzed? My heart quivered at the last. For a moment my thoughts were frozen by horror.

Then I wiggled my toes.

The weight of the world dropped from my shoulders. I could feel my legs, feet, and waist. Suddenly, I could breath again. My future was open. It was only when freed from that terror that I knew the depths of my fear. I indulged in the relief. Stretching my legs, driving my fingers into my ribs just feel the pain.

The world felt fake.

I stared at the ceiling in a daze. Had it all been a dream? It made sense. More sense than waking up in my bed, uninjured. My memories of last night were almost too wild to be real. It was comforting to let myself think that it had all been an illusion.

But I could not quite believe it.

I curled up under my covers. I wanted to fall back to sleep. To hide from the world a moment longer. I almost did exactly that as I laid there for a long minute. Then I forced myself awake. I could hear the creak of the stairs as my Dad moved through the house. He had finished his shower, so either he was up early or I was up late. Reaching for my alarm clock, I twisted it so that I could read the red numbers.

6:47.

Odd.

My alarm was set to 6:30, so it should have gone off a full 15 minutes ago. Did I turn it off by accident? Doing so would be unusual, but not unheard of. Dismissing the thought, I pulled myself from my bed. I had cut class on Friday after a particularly bad encounter with Emma and Madison. Last thing I needed was to be gone for two days in a row.

I would worry about everything else later.

Pulling on my sweats, I descended the stairs drawn by the scent of bacon. Normally I would head out for my morning run before sitting down for breakfast. But seeing how my Dad had already settled in, I decided to join him at the table.

My Dad looked up when I entered, eyes wide as though he were surprised to see me. It was hard to tell from his normal expression, given how wide his thick glasses made his eyes seem big even in normal times.

"Hey kiddo, did I wake you up?"

I answered with a half hearted shrug and pulled up a chair. I snagged some bacon, adding it to french toast already on my plate. Dad had cooked extra as usual, even though he would rather I slept in. I loved him for that because I knew how much he hated my morning run.

Dad watched me for a moment, pouring me a glass of O.J. without my asking. As we both returned to our meal he spoke.

"You don't think you are going out running, do you?"

I gave a weak smile. I was glad he was concerned. More, I understood why. Brockton Bay was a nasty town at its best and while we did not live in the worst parts of it, we did not live in the best. Running, though, was one thing I would not give up. I had started running to get myself into shape for my cape career. It had quickly turned into a release. Just me, the streets, and the morning air. I needed that. To unwind. To escape the crap that was my life.

"Yeah. You know me. Got to stick to my routine, otherwise it will be impossible to keep it up later."

My Dad set down his fork with a clatter. That was my first clue he was taking things differently than normal.

"Taylor. You were up vomiting all night. The last thing you should be doing is running around," he scolded.

Vomiting? What the hell was he talking about? I had been expecting some soft pressure, but not this.

When had I stepped inside the Twilight Zone?

"No running today, Taylor. Go back to bed," he pressed. "I've already called the school to tell them you won't be in."

Warning sirens blared in my head.

I had not so much convinced myself that last night was a dream, as decided that I would ignore my questions until I was at least half awake. Now, the threat was more palpable. The clock? Forgetting to reset it was entirely plausible. Waking up in my bed and not knowing how I got there? Surreal as hell and a little scary, but I was pretty sure I had a concussion last night so maybe my memories got screwed.

This? This was fucking terrifying.

Okay. Time for a fact check. The last thing I recalled was getting slugged by Lung, dragged around by an Asian woman, and meeting with the Undersiders. After that. Nothing. So, what did it mean? There were several possibilities. First, it _had_ been a dream and I was going nuts. Second, it was my Dad's head that was screwed and I was remembering everything right. Third-

"Taylor?"

The silence must have dragged on too long. I flicked my eyes across the room and found an old picture. It was of Mom and me. The two of us were standing in front of a great gorge. I must have been no older than ten, seeing as how my head barely reached my Mom's waist.

Looking at the picture breathed life into faded memories. Long drives. Hiking trails. Tents, fires and cold nights. Mom and Emma, back when things were good. The picture was not of our most monumental vacation. It was of our last big one. After that, work and the failing economy had eaten my Dad's life.

Then Mom died.

"Where was that?" I asked, gesturing toward the picture.

My Dad blinked. Looked. Removed his glasses, worried at the lenses, then looked again.

"Ah. The Black Canyon of the Gunnison." He paused for a bit, gazing at me as though searching for something. "Do you want to go there again?"

I released a sighed of relief. That scratched the worst possibility off the list. Dad had not been replaced by a pod person. His question though, left me hanging. The trip to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park had been one we shared with Emma and Alan. The two of us had played together for days, running through the hills, staying up late in our shared room in the cabin.

Now those memories were tainted.

The thought of doing it again made my gut curdle. But, looking at my Dad, I could not help but think that he needed memories like that. Good memories. The kind we made back when Mom was alive.

And maybe, just maybe, the same was true for me.

"Yeah," I breathed. "I would like that."

"Next summer then?" my Dad half-said half-asked. He moved toward the sink and deposited his dishes. Hot water roared as he scrubbed them clean. He headed for the door as I finished up. "See you later kiddo. And take it easy, alright. You have missed enough days as it is. Don't make yourself sick by pushing too hard."

I gave him my best smile and lied through my teeth. "Don't worry. I will be good. I promise."

The door closed with a heavy thud. I waited until I heard his car pull away from the drive.

I rushed the basement stairs.

There were as many powers in this world as there were capes. Since my Dad remembered our shared vacation, I could be reasonably certain that he was not a Changer. That left a Master or a Stranger. The Protectorate had a slew of protocols for dealing with capes with human manipulating powers. Unfortunately, I did not know anything beyond the basics. Which was to say, I knew only that they _had_ protocols.

What I did know was that Dad and I had contradicting sets of memories. I recalled a fight with Lung gone wrong. My Dad remembered me, sick with the flu, vomiting my guts up.

It was easy to assume that _my_ memories were right. I knew better. Trusting myself was natural, but if crazy people questioned themselves more, they would be hell of a lot less crazy. I did not need faith. I needed evidence.

Thankfully, I had a good idea of what to check.

I burst into the basement and pulled out my costume from the coal chute.

My costume was a point of pride for me. I made it myself using spider silk woven by black widows. It might not be as good as a costume made by a professional outfitter, but I would challenge anyone to build a costume half as good on their own dime.

Needless to say, I knew everything about it.

It did not take long to find what I was looking for.

Scuff marks.

I had dyed my costume last Friday, so prior to the night out, it had been brand new. Any damage was proof my memories were real. The burns on my mask and splattered blood within sealed the deal. I was a bit surprised though how little damage there was. Lung had gotten a good, solid hit on me. After that, I had been smashed through a window a fair bit down.

And what did my costume have to show for it? A few darkened patches and a couple of frayed threads.

Damn did that make me feel good.

That elation lasted a bare second.

"Fuck."

I had been hoping my memories were wrong for a good reason. Because, if they were right, that meant someone had brought me home, fiddled with my Dad's head, then dropped me off in my bed while leaving no one the wiser. Whoever it was knew my face, my name, and my address. Hell, they knew who my fucking Dad was.

My first night out and my civilian identity was already blown.

"Fuck," I said again for emphasis.

-oOo-

I stepped off the bus six blocks from Brockton Bay Central Library. I needed to run, but I did not want to do it in my neighborhood where my actions might get back to my Dad. However slim that chance might be. So I got off onto the sidewalks of the Brockton Bay's downtown and jogged my way toward the library.

There was a pleasant coolness to the morning air, and the streets were empty on account of the early hour. The roads here were busier than I was used to, but it was quiet enough. When I reached my destination I found myself regretting that I did not chose a drop off point twice as distant.

Nerves calmed, I stepped inside.

The Central Library was a throwback to the era when Brockton Bay had been a wealthy city on the rise. The front entrance consisted of tall ceilings and gothic pillars. Artwork adorned the halls giving the place an appearance too rich for Brockton Bay's downtown.

I headed up to the second floor, nodding to the middle aged woman in red jacket before taking one of the twenty computers set aside for public use. Because it was still early, I had the pick of the litter. I chose a PC in the back corner, far from prying eyes.

I had a number of things I wanted to research, but I started with the one weighting most heavily on my mind.

Master/Stranger protocols.

The Master/Stranger protocols were a strict set of regulations developed by the PRT. They handled the rules of engagement before, during, and after an encounter with a cape with mind bending powers. Over the years the PRT had encountered a broad range of mind influencing abilities from Nice Guy, to Heartbreaker, and of course the worst of them all, the Simurgh.

Reading their profiles did not help my nerves.

The PRT's stance on new human controlling capes was unequivocal. Isolation for one to seven days, brain scans, consultation with a cape psychologist, and possible review by a Protectorate Thinker. The PRT offered some of those resources to independent capes, no questions asked. Which was great, except I really did not want to explain to my Dad why I needed to stay overnight with the Protectorate.

Short of the PRT, the best suggestion I found was to keep a diary. There was a _lot_ of debate as to the effectiveness, but a number of independent capes claimed that by comparing present behavior to past it was possible to tease out subtle Master influence. It sounded wishy-washy to me, but I jotted the idea down in my notebook.

Three seconds later, I wrote myself a warning myself to keep any diary encrypted.

Not having had much success on the Master/Stranger end of things, I turned my attention to something nearer and dearer to my heart. Navigating the PHO, I pulled up the latest events.

 _ **Welcome to the Parahumans Online Message board**  
You are currently logged in as: Guest_

 ** _Topic:_** ** _A d_** ** _ragon... slain_** ** _?  
In: Boards ► News ► Events ► America ► Brockton Bay  
_**

 ** _Bagrat_** _(Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on April 1_ _1_ _th, 2011:_

 _In case you missed the fireworks, Armsmaster dragged in Lung last night. But interestingly enough, he is not taking credit for the take down. This has left it up to us to speculate as to the culprit. Was it the Undersiders? The E88? A new independent? The Undersiders were in the area, so the good money is on them, but I have my doubts._

 _Anyone know more?_

 _ **(Showing page** **1** **of 3)**_

► **_Reave_** _(Verified PRT Agent)_ _[Replied:_ _April 1_ _1_ _th_ _]_

 _The Undersiders had a showdown with Oni Lee half an hour prior, and they are known to have pulled a job on a casino run by the ABB. I think this one is open and shut._

► _**Bruce Lao** [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _Not sure I buy that. You really think a no-name team like the Undersiders could handle Lung?_

► _**WagTheDog** [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _The Undersiders have Bitch/Hellhound. Don't underestimate her._

► _**Bruce Lao** [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _So... I looked up Hellhound's entry in the wiki... And you know what? I might be willing to bend on my prior statement. Still, I am not quite ready to believe the Undersiders pulled it off. This just feels too big for them. Know what I'm saying?_

► _**White Fairy** (Veteran Member) [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _It wasn't the Undersiders. From the moment the first flare went up, I was out on my porch watching the firefight. The cape that took down Lung was an Asian woman. Waist length hair, red shirt, dark skirt._

► _**XxVoid_CowboyxX** [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _Pics or it didn't happen._

► _**White Fairy** (Veteran Member) [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _I was looking through my binoculars, but my boyfriend tried to shoot a video with his phone. Give me a minute and I will upload it._

 _Ninja Edit: And here it is._

► **_Mac's Dual_** ** _Rocket Propelled Grenades_** _[Replied: April 1_ _1_ _th]_ _  
_

 _W_ _hile we are waiting on White Fairy, let_ _'s_ _move on to the important question. Was she hot?_

► _**Bruce Lao** [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _Smoking ;)_

► _**Chilldrizzle** [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _Ziiing!_

 _ **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3**_

 _ **Topic:** **A dragon... slain** **?  
In: Boards ► News ► Events ► America ► Brockton Bay**_

 _ **(Showing page** **2** **of 3)**_

► **_Mac's Dual_** ** _Rocket Propelled Grenades_** _[Replied: April 1_ _1_ _th]_ _  
_

 _Ha. Ha. Ha._

► _**Bruce Lao** [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _Video Up._

 _White Fairy: Grainy as hell, but I guess it's best to stay a long way away from a fight like that._

► **_Mac's Dual_** ** _Rocket Propelled Grenades_** _[Replied: April 1_ _1_ _th]  
_

 _Whoa! Look at those fireballs. Its like an_ _live_ _action flick._ _Honestly,_ _I_ _am_ _surprised_ _our cape made it out alive. But,_ _shock of shocker_ _s_ _, it was_ _Lung_ _who_ _go_ _t_ _his ass handed to him._

 _Maybe_ _Lung_ _will think twice_ _before_ _he tries to recruit_ _the next_ _gal?_

► _**XxVoid_CowboyxX** [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _That video is obviously fake._

► **_Reave_** _(Verified PRT Agent)_ _[Replied:_ _April 1_ _1_ _th_ _]_

 _Hard to see much between the shadows and pixelation, but at 2:17 Lung's fire blast gives us a good picture of the cape in question. Like White Fairy said: Long Hair. Red Shirt. Skirt. Can't tell any more detail than that. I'll try running her through the database and see what pops up._

 _Don't think I will have much luck though._

► _**Bruce Lao** [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _Reave, good catch at 2:17. We can see her clear as day._

► _**WagTheDog** [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _Uh, are we allowed to post that? Because that girl is definitely not in costume._

► _**XxVoid_CowboyxX** [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _Why is everyone ignoring that the video is a fake?_

► _**White Fairy** (Veteran Member) [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _WagTheDog: Good question. I figured because the blur, it was fair game. But I will leave that decision to a higher authority. Mods?_

 _XxVoid_CowboyxX: Are you an idiot? How on Earth would I cobble together a fake video in 4:30 hours?_

► _**Caliburn** (Moderator) [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _Per the rules, no video or picture shall be displayed that unmasks a cape whose identity has not already been made publicly known. I have reviewed the linked video, weighed the contents, and deem it within acceptable bounds._

 _ **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3**_

 _ **Topic:** **A dragon... slain** **?  
In: Boards ► News ► Events ► America ► Brockton Bay**_

 _ **(Showing page** **3** **of 3)**_

► **_Mac's Dual_** ** _Rocket Propelled Grenades_** _[Replied: April 1_ _1_ _th]_ _  
_

 _So hath spoken_ _the great_ _Caliburn._

► **_Char_** _[Replied: April 1_ _1_ _th]_ _  
_

 _D_ _id a_ _nyone else notice the bugs?_ _Because it got real creepy_ _not long after_ _Lung lit himself_ _on fire_ _._

► _**Nondeceptive** [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _Yeah. I know exactly what you are talking about Char. I was about three blocks away when the crickets started to sing. Scared the hell out of me. For a second I thought I was going to die._

► **_Mac's Dual_** ** _Rocket Propelled Grenades_** _[Replied: April 1_ _1_ _th]_ _  
_

 _Bugs? Bugs! Good going Char. Way to ruin my cute Asian cape fantasies._

► _**Chilldrizzle** [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _Ah, come on Mac, you know you love yourself some creepy Asian chick. All she needs to make your dream complete is a pretty smile and a bloody ax. =)_

► **_Reave_** _(Verified PRT Agent)_ _[Replied:_ _April 1_ _1_ _th_ _]_

 _Okay, new news. The PRT will be making an announcement at noon crediting two capes with the capture of Lung. Neither cape is known. The first cape is the Asian woman White Fairy spotted. The second is a new independent identified by witnesses at the scene._

 _No clear pics of either, so I would like to do a shout out for anyone with anything better than what White Fairy offered (see the video at 2:17). The PRT will pay a small cash reward for this, but only if you get them to me an hour before release._

► _**Bruce Lao** [Replied: April 11th]  
_

 _Hear that Mac? Two capes. So you don't have to bug out on this one ;)_

 _ **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3**_

My heart beat fast as I closed the tab for the Brockton Bay forum. I had been noticed. Not just noticed, but credited with the defeat of Lung. Lung! Part of me wanted to stand up and screaming my victory right in the middle of the library. The other half was embarrassed that I got credit at all. Smiling uncontrollably, I poked around for information on Rin.

Nothing. Either Rin was as new as me, or she was unrecognizable in her civilian garb. Pulling information on the Undersiders was easier. Grue and Bitch had entire pages dedicated to them. Tattletale and Regent, however, drew blanks.

What I learned soured my mood. The Undersiders were a villain team and likely the 'kids' Lung had been hunting. But that did not keep me down for long, not after being recognized for helping take down Lung.

Lung!

Okay, maybe I was a little too excited. Calming myself and flattening my expression before my smile ripped open my face, I started searching for any information on me.

As with Rin, nothing. There were a few mentions on the board about the cricket gambit I pulled, and some news about the convenience store, but nothing specifically about me. But somebody must have seen something, otherwise the PRT would not be naming me as a responsible cape.

Whoever the PRT's witness was, they were not posting on Parahumans Online.

I glanced at the clock. Six minutes past eleven. The computers around me were starting to fill up as the downtown lunch crowd claimed the library as a bastion of peace and quiet. I was about to get up when my final search turned up a thread buried deep in the connections forum.

 ** _Subject:_ _R and_ _Bug_**

 _Owe you one. Would like to repay the favor. Meet?_

 _Tt._

I stared at the message for a long while. Knowing that the Undersiders were villains, I was not sure I wanted to meet with them. But I desperately wanted to see Rin. I needed to know if she was a threat. She knew my identity. She had messed with my Dad. I wanted assurances.

Mostly, though, I wanted to thank her.

I had not forgotten that Rin had saved my life. Most likely, she had healed my wounds as well. I had unmasked her. So, it was only fair that she had unmasked me. And, as much as her use of Master powers crept me out, she was only trying to help when she dorked with my Dad's head.

I did not like it, but I could respect it.

And right now Tattletale was my best lead.

So I clicked on her name, chose 'send private message', and talked.

-oOo-

Tattletale had arranged for us to meet on a random rooftop near downtown. Before heading up, I checked the place out with my bugs. Tattletale, Grue, and Regent were gathered on top. I considered waiting until Rin showed, but I did not like hanging back like a coward. Becoming a cape was a chance to turn over a new leaf, to be a hero, to reclaim what I lost to Emma's bullying. So I squared my shoulders and climbed the fire escape.

Two guys and a girl. The Undersiders were out of costume – as indicated in their email. It was easy enough to pick out Tattletale. Her dirty blonde hair and loose braid were a dead giveaway. Separating Grue from Regent was a greater challenge. I never did get a good look at either of them last night. But if I were to guess, I would assume that Regent was the pretty boy with curls and Grue was mister strong, dark, and handsome.

Tattletale flashed a vulpine smile as I stepped into view. "That's one."

I folded my arms and glanced over the group. The Undersiders were relaxed and no one objected to me appearing in costume. Good. I was not going to risk a knife in my back for sharing my identity with villains.

"Rin was supposed to be here," I said, surprised by the evenness of my voice.

"Give them a few minutes," Tattletale said with a broad grin. "They are running a bit behind."

I raised a brow. Them? They? The gesture was wasted seeing as how it was hidden behind my mask. An uncomfortable silence settled between us as we waited. I found myself tapping my foot impatiently, half hoping that someone would start a conversation.

Grue took pity on me.

Stepping forward the dark skinned man offered a hand. "Brian," he introduced. "I was going to wait for Rin, but leaving you hanging felt awkward."

I banished last night's shyness and shook his hand. Brain had a firm grip.

"You can call me Bug for now, I guess," I said steadily, cursing myself for not having come up with a better name. "I take it Rin has a team?"

"Two others," Brian looked over his shoulder to where 'Tattletale' stood. "I didn't catch their names."

"They didn't give any," Tattletale answered.

I frowned then gestured toward the Undersiders. "The no-costume thing, payback for knowing Rin's identity?"

"That and a show of trust," Brian said genially. "It was my idea."

Regent's lips twisted into a half smile. "Brian didn't want to run you off like we did Spitfire."

My gaze flickered over the others, but my train of thought was aborted an instant later when a trio of new presences were picked by my bugs. My head turned toward the fire escape. Tattletale's turned at the same time. It made me wonder. Did she detect those three at the same moment as me? Or had she merely detected that I had detected them?

"They're here," Tattletale said.

Rin ascended the stairs flanked by her compatriots.

I never got a good look at Rin during the fight with Lung. Now, I could see her clearly. She was tall for an Asian girl, only one or two inches shorter than me. And beautiful. She had long, sleek, well kempt hair and the face of a model. Her short skirt, form fitting red blouse, and light makeup told me that she was one of those pretty girls. The kind that spent half an hour too long in the bathroom to make sure they looked perfect.

God it made me jealous.

If Rin was tall for an Asian, the man on her right was a giant. He stood half a head taller than me. His hair was cropped short. Red, with streaks of white. He had a lanky build with visible muscles. It was the body of someone who exercised regularly but never used equipment. Handsome, but not quite as good looking as Regent. Nor did he have the same rugged form as Brain.

Their third companion was an angel. Blonde hair, like spun gold, was tied up in a bun. She was tiny, almost fragile looking. Beautiful. She lacked incredible curves and dressed in a simple white shirt and knee length skirt. But everything she had was utterly perfect. She was otherworldly, ephemeral, like a faerie given form.

Not a single one of them was in costume.

It made me feel incredibly self conscious.

"And that's two." Tattletale's lips stretched into a dimpled smile that highlighted her lightly freckled face. "Pay up."

"Shit."

Regent slapped a wad of bills into Tattletale's open palm. His scowl twisted into a cruel smirk when Brian did the same a half second later.

"You bet on whether all of us would show?" I asked.

"No. Alec bet that neither group would come wearing costumes," Tattletale corrected, gesturing toward Regent. "Brian bet the opposite."

"And you bet that one group would and the other wouldn't," I finished with a nod.

I understood the logic behind it. Mathematically, Tattletale had a fifty percent chance of being right while 'Alec' and 'Brian' had only a one-in-four. But that was assuming all possible outcomes were equally probable. Personally, I would have been inclined to bet with Brian.

After all, the chance of _me_ showing up in costume was close to a hundred percent, and I would have figured that Rin would be no different.

Brian corrected my assumption.

"No, Lisa bet that you would come in costume and Rin's group would not," Brain said with a deep scowl. "I thought it was a sucker's bet, but I should have known better than to go against Lisa."

Okay. I will admit, Tattletale – _Lisa_ , I internally corrected – had made one hell of a ballsy-bet.

"Those three are different than us. They don't care about their civilian identity," Lisa explained. Then her vulpine grin grew wider. "No. That isn't right. It's more accurate to say, they never had a civilian identity in the first place."

Rin, who was watching the exchange with bored politeness, suddenly smirked. Her posture shifted, taking on the presence of someone who was altogether too pleased with themselves.

The short blonde leaned in close to the dark haired woman's ear. "It seems you are correct. She does have a good eye."

While Rin and the blonde made their exchange, the redhead set a gentle hand on my shoulder. I went stalk still. I resisted the urge to pull away, wanting to look tough rather than shy.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

I nodded stiffly.

"She should be, between _that_ and the prana Saber lent," Rin answered with a dismissive flip of her hair. Her sharp gaze returned to the Undersiders. "You did not invite us here for small talk. Say your piece and I will say mine."

Brian took that as his cue to step forward. The black man favored everyone with a genial smile.

"We will get right to it, but first I want do some introductions. I am Brian and those two are Alec and Lisa. Rachel – Bitch when in costume – is a no show, but we can begin without her."

Brian gestured toward Rin, indicating she should continue.

The redhead was the first on Rin's side to move. He crossed the roof and took Brian's hand. "Shirou Emiya."

"Rin Tohsaka," Rin answered bluntly without moving from her spot.

The tiny blonde gave a slight, but chivalrous nod. "Saber."

Lisa jerked at the final introduction. Then a shark like grin spread on her lips.

"That is interesting. Your companions gave their real name, but you... you are using an alias," Lisa said. "I wonder why. A secret of some sort? Were you famous? Ah. But why? A criminal? No. Then why hide– Oh. Oh. Very interesting. You don't share your name because, if you gave it, no one would believe it."

Lisa smirked with satisfaction. I glanced at Saber expecting a dark expression given how Lisa had blabbered her secret. Saber's face, however, remained unperturbed. Brian, though, was far from pleased.

"We are here to make friends, Lisa," Brian warned.

A short silence fell. All eyes turned to me.

I was the odd man out. The only one in costume. The only one without a team. If I wanted to play the game, I had to reduce that distance. Take a risk. Was I willing to do that? Yes. Yes I was.

I reached back and gripped the buckles that held my mask in place. Loosening the straps, I pulled it free.

"Taylor Hebert."

I swept my eyes across the group, not knowing what I was expecting. Whatever it was, I did not see it. Of Rin's team, only Saber offered a solemn nod of acknowledgement. Lisa, she was smirking as though she had known this was coming from the start.

As for Alec? He boldly held out a palm toward Lisa and quipped, "Does this mean I get my money back?"

"Nice to meet you, Taylor," Brian said seriously. "Now then, seeing how everyone has been introduced, let's get to the meat of this meeting. The Undersiders owe you one for the help with Lung. So, to start, these are yours, no strings attached."

Lisa held out a pair of plastic lunchboxes. They were brightly colored and cheap. The box on the left had a picture of Alexandria, fist extended, flying through the air. The second depicted Legend floating over a cityscape.

"Saber," Rin commanded before I had time to react.

The short blonde stepped forward and coolly claimed the Alexandria lunchbox before returning to Rin's side. Rin popped open the box and thumbed through a wad of bills. My brows rose at the sight. Rin's heavy sigh showed that she was not half as impressed.

"I know," Brian placated. He seemed to have been caught off guard by Rin's reaction. "It's far less than you would expect from a job of that caliber, but depending on how this discussion goes you could see considerably more."

"It is not that she isn't grateful, it's that she spent more than twice that dealing with Lung," Lisa explained. She waggled the Legend lunchbox in my direction. "If you don't want it, I will be happy to keep it."

I bravely ventured forth and rescued Legend from Lisa's villainous clutches.

"Great, now that all that is settled, you have two choices. Or at least that was what I was planning on saying," Lisa said, her lips quirked in a knowing smile. "But you three came here with an offer of your own."

I faced Rin. Given how she had saved me last night, I had believed her a hero – creepy mind manipulations and dissection threats aside. So I was a little curious what she would want from a group of villains like the Undersiders.

Brian shared my thoughts. The dark man's expression went flat and faced Rin's team with folded arms.

"If you have a job for the Undersiders, then let's hear it."

"Before I begin, there is a question I need to ask. Lisa, was it? You are what the locals call a Thinker, correct?" Rin asked.

Locals? As far as I knew, the PRT designations were world wide. Was Rin from the CUI? If so, her English was impeccable and her accent all but eradicated. In fact, she sounded vaguely British.

Lisa smirked. "That's right. You could say that I have the power to read minds. Or maybe that I am inspired by divine truth."

A playful smile formed on Rin's lips, giving her the look of a cat that had found a particularly tasty mouse. "That kind of power would not work on Saber," she said with a twisted smile. "And if you had tried to read my mind, I would know."

Lisa's vulpine smile spread wider. She was clearly enjoying the exchange. "Then, if not that, I must be an oracle," she teased, spreading her arms helplessly.

Rin cupped her chin thoughtfully. "Possible, I suppose. But Gaia is not awake on this Earth and I have yet to meet a god, so pardon my doubts. Initially I had speculated that your power might be a form of clairvoyance or psychometry, but neither of those could explain the information you gathered in this meeting." Rin paused then turned toward the redhead at her side. "Shirou, what do you think?"

"Cold reading," Shirou answered with confidence. "She asks leading questions then uses micro-expressions to verify her deductions."

"Really? You are going with that?" Lisa asked, sounding amused.

"Do not underestimate Shirou. From his time with the Enforcers, he has gained extensive knowledge in the art of investigation and interrogation," Saber said firmly. She turned toward her companion. "Rin, it appears that approaching the Undersiders was the correct course on this matter. Though I still question the wisdom of involving a group of self described 'villains'."

Rin's eyes twitched. "Saber, are you implying that I might be wrong?" she asked sweetly.

"While I would never doubt the quality of your mind, I have found that your instincts leave much to be desired," Saber retorted, impervious to the lingering threat.

Shirou's lips quirked in an amused half smile.

"If you are done probing my team for information about their powers, I would like to know about this job you are offering," Brian said stiffly, shooting a dark glare at Lisa.

I watched Rin as well, interested in her answer. The Asian beauty finally tore her eyes from Saber, flipping her hair with a dissatisfied harrumph.

"Very well. Then let us get down to business. We are investigating an important matter. An infection of sorts," Rin answered. Her lips curled as she casually dropped her bombshell. "One that, if left unchecked, might spell not only the end this Earth, but all of them."

-oOo-

 _ **Dossier – Rin Tohsaka – Enforcer Unit 09: Squad Leader**_

 _Subject is designated: Friendly. Unauthorized confrontation will be punished per the rules described in Enforcer Codex Section 36-B._

 _Addendum: This threat assessment excludes Rin's Servant, Saber [Dossier – Saber – Enforcer Unit 09]. Saber is independently classified as an EX level threat._

 _Threat Assessment [A]  
Strength: E  
Endurance: E  
Agility: D  
Mana: A+  
Luck: C  
* Listed attributes are Servant class_

 _Rin Tohsaka has incredible aptitude for the use of thaumaturgy in combat. She routinely executes C rank mysteries without incantation and has displayed the ability to perform B rank mysteries with a single line aria. Further, with the assistance of jewel craft, she has demonstrated the ability to execute multiple A rank mysteries, simultaneously [Beirut, October 23rd, 2009]._

 _Rin's reinforcement is unusually refined. On repeated occasions she has shown low level, Servant class attributes. Her skill and strength have been proven sufficient to dispatch Dead Apostles in direct melee combat [Lampang, February 4th, 2010]. Extreme caution is recommended if approached._

 _Subject Background:_  
 _Rin Tohsaka is a seventh generation magus and the only known descendant of the Tohsaka family. She is noted for her victory in the Fifth Grail War and for her close ties with the Church._

 _Rin Tohsaka grew up in Fuyuki City and received instruction from her father Tokiome, then his apprentice Kirei Kotomine after his death. After winning the grail, Rin Tohsaka remained in Fuyuki City for one year in order to complete her education._

 _Rin moved to London and joined the Clock Tower May 31st, 2005. While there, she attended classes as a student accompanied by her apprentice Shirou Emiya [Dossier – Shirou Emiya – Enforcer Unit 09]. Rin's brilliance and ability quickly earned her the lauds from her professors, despite persistent bias due to her Japanese origin. Therefore, it came as a surprise when she left the Clock Tower and joined the Enforcers on July 7th, 2008._

 _After completing basic training, Rin promptly formed an independent Enforcer squad, Unit 09, despite having no missions on record. Her record as an Enforcer remains impeccable, with twenty-three dead apostles hunts completed in her first year alone. Rin participated in the successful disposal of the Twenty-sixth Dead Apostle Ancestor – Itet._

 _Rin was tapped for the Type-D investigation at Zelretch's request. No explanation was given. Research into Rin's connection to the Wizard Marshall remains outstanding._


	2. Chapter 2

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 2**  
-oOo-

The Undersiders' base was a cozy place. Yeah, there were clothes thrown over the backs of the couches and a pyramid of cans on a side table, but that only served to highlight the area was lived in. I liked it. It smelled like freedom.

A musty, pizza scented freedom. But freedom nonetheless.

The seven of us were packed into what could be called the Undersiders' living room. Two couches were split between the two teams. Lisa, Brian, and Alec occupied the space across from me, with Alec using the right arm as a seat. Rin and Shirou claimed the second couch with Saber standing off to Rin's side like a solemn guard.

I was the odd woman out. The only cape without a team. Not quite sure where to place myself, I had taken an uncomfortable position at Shirou's side. Not so close as to imply I was part of his unit, but certainly closer to him than the Undersiders.

I will admit. I was feeling a bit hopeful. It was not every day I crossed paths with a heroine strong enough to take down Lung. Stumbling upon an entire hero team that was out, quite literally, to save the world?

That was the stuff childhood dreams were made out of.

Brian leaned forward in his seat. After scanning the group to ensure everyone was settled, he addressed us all.

"Before we get down into the details, let me lay it out straight. The Undersiders are a small time gang. The jobs we deal in are not much bigger than petty theft. Saving the world, to be frank, is as far out of our league as it gets."

"And seeing as how we are villains, it's our solemn duty to destroy the world, not save it," Alec quipped.

Brian turned to glare at his companion. "Thank you, Alec."

Alec raised a hand, accepting the mock praise.

"Then allow me to clarify," Rin said. The brunette occupied her seat, legs folded in a flawless ladylike manner. "Our contract is to investigate, not to solve."

"Though if the matter is within our power to correct, we shall unerringly endeavor to do so," Saber added.

"Good. That makes things a lot easier," Brian said. "If it's an investigation, we can handle it. But the Undersiders are a team. You hire one of us, you hire all of us."

"Of course," Rin agreed.

Brian settled into the couch, left arm thrown over the back. He nodded toward Lisa.

"Lisa, you will be doing the heavy lifting, so you can drive."

The freckled blonde sat forward, an eager smile spread across her lips. "Okay. To clear the air, let's start with something simple. You three are not from Earth Bet. In fact, I am betting you're not from Earth Aleph, either."

Saber nodded. "It is as you say."

Lisa clapped her hands and rubbed them together. "Then what brings a team of interdimensional travelers to Brockton Bay?"

It was Rin who answered.

"June 16th, 2010, Lagos Nigeria. A young woman spontaneously exhibited a Striker power in the midst of a sexual assault. Three days later, she was exterminated by Counter Guardians along with numerous witnesses. August 3rd, 2010, near Katoomba Australia. After being knocked off a bridge, a sixteen year old boy gained the power of flight. Five hours later, he was exterminated by Counter-"

Brian held up a hand. "Back up there for a minute. Counter Guardians?"

"Alaya's cleaners," Shirou's deep voice interjected. The redhead lounged on the couch, legs folded and both arms thrown over the back. "When an existential threat to humanity is detected, Alaya uses Counter Guardians to exterminate it down to the last living witness."

Lisa perked up. "And Alaya is?"

"The concentrated will of humanity," Rin answered, taking over for her team. "In essence, she is Gaia's split personality formulated by the accumulated weight of human consciousness. In simplest terms, a being of immense power akin to a god."

"Sounds New Age-y," Alec said, sounding bored. "And we should believe this goddess of yours exists, why?"

"She doesn't. Not on Earth Bet," Lisa answered quickly. Her smile quirked with delight. "Which is exactly the problem, right?"

"No. Alaya definitely exists," Rin corrected forcefully. "Gaia, and by implication Alaya, possesses an essence that approaches the ultimate. Their souls coil around Akasha and – at points – spill through. They are transcendental beings whose life passes through the breadth of dimension. As such, we can be certain that Gaia and Alaya _exist_ within this world, as they must in every living iteration of Earth. What they lack on Earth Bet is cognizance."

"Cognizance. _Right_ ," Alec drawled sarcastically.

Rin's smile was chilling. "If you would like, I can provide the proofs. Though, without at least two years of thaumaturgical study, I doubt you would understand them."

To be fair, I found Rin's idea of a planetary goddess as hokey as Alec did. But if Rin really was from another Earth, then I was not willing to dismiss it outright. Earth Aleph had found capes at least as unbelievable, and I did not want to be like the nuts on that world that insisted it was all one grand hoax.

"Alec," Brian warned, cutting the boy off. "This sounds deep and all, and I know I started if off with my question about Counter Guardians, but do we need to know any of this for the job?"

"No. Not yet. I will fill Lisa in on the details later," Rin said. She closed her eyes. When she reopened them, they shimmered with focus. "To get back to the point, Counter Guardians are deployed only in response to existential threats. Given that they were deployed not once, but thrice, it is no surprise that the Mage's Association was a touch concerned."

"Wait," I interrupted. I nearly shied back when the entire room turned toward me. I squared my shoulders and bulled my way forward. "Earlier you said you were investigating an infection. You aren't saying that capes are the infection? That _we_ are going to destroy world?"

"Capes?" Rin asked, sounding confused. "Ah, you mean parahumans. No. If it was just parahumans, Gaia and Alaya would have nothing to worry about. Parahumans might be a vector, but they are definitely not the source. The source must be something greater. We suspect it to be an Aristoteles, tentatively named Type-D."

Brian winced. "Do I want to ask?"

"Oh! Oh! I'll do it," Alec said with faux enthusiasm. "What is an 'Aristoteles'?"

"Supreme alien beings," Rin answered, sounding annoyed. "And yes, others have been confirmed, Type-Moon and Type-Mercury specifically. Others are suspected."

" _Pfftt,_ " Alec snorted out a chuckle. "And now we have little gray men."

I could see Rin's ladylike facade crumbled. She glared at the curly haired boy, muscles tense as though she were ready to attack.

"Goddammit, Alec. If you have nothing useful to add, keep your mouth shut in front the client," Brian growled. The dark skinned man turned back to the group and restored the lost conversation. "Okay, if I get this right you crossed over from Earth-"

"Tav," Lisa supplied. "Gimmel would be next, but Tav is a better name for it."

Brian gave Lisa a look. Lisa answered with a smirk.

"Earth Tav," Brian said, using the name the freckled blonde provided. "-with a goal of investigating this... uh... Aristoteles that you suspect is a threat to the existence of Earth. I can run with that, but what I need to know is where do the Undersiders fit in this picture?"

"As I said, our goal is to investigate. Unfortunately, that investigation has had... limited success," Rin said, the final words leaving her mouth as though she were pulling her own teeth. "What I need is a set of eyes that can see the threads we missed. The specific information I am looking for is the identity of the Aristoteles, the nature and limits to its power, and what threat it represents. Additionally, I would like to study the local parahuman population and determine whether Alaya was right to strike them down or if she was being overly cautious."

"And if capes are a risk?" I asked.

"Then Zelretch will seal this dimension and let the infection burn itself out."

That was... cold, calculated, and horrifyingly efficient. Thing was, I did not disagree with it. If capes really were an extinction level threat then better the damage be contained to Earth Bet. That was not to say I liked it. I hated the idea that, worst come to worst, my world would be sacrificed.

But the alternative to quarantine was a hell of a lot worse.

"World ending events aside, I am not hearing anything that puts me off the job. Lisa, this sounds like your gig. Are you willing?"

Brian glanced at the freckled blonde questioningly.

"Oh, I am willing," Lisa answered. Her lips stretched into a hungry smile. "In fact, you could say I am raring to go."

"Then let's talk price," Brian said with a nod. "Since this sounds like an extended contract, I am thinking twenty-five grand a month. The job runs until Lisa is tired of providing support. Additional services come at additional cost. Finally, Undersiders get first dibs. Which means if we need Lisa to run a mission, she's ours."

"Oh, and you think she is worth that much?" Rin asked, her eyes dangerously half-lidded.

"Thinkers are expensive," Brian retorted, arms folded across his chest.

"We pulled five times that when we hit that casino," Alec quipped.

I stiffened. It was easy to forget, with us all gathered here acting cordial, that the Undersiders were a villain group. I glanced across the others to see if they were as bothered as I. Shirou remained unmoved, lounging back as though we were shooting the breeze. Saber shifted subtly. I wondered if it was unease or if I was reading too much into her posture.

Rin's eye twitched. The faint smile on her lips somehow became all the more chilling.

"I see. Then you're saying that my assistance with Lung was worth one fiftieth of a heist?"

Alec actually laughed. The curly haired boy slapped Brian on the shoulder.

"She's got you there."

"Thank you, Alec," Brian deadpanned.

"You have to admit she has a point," Lisa added.

Brian glowered. "Do you have another suggestion?"

"An exchange of favors," Lisa interjected. "The Undersiders help with Rin's investigation, in return her team provides blanket protection from all attacks. If Lung turns up, we call in the big guns. Everyone is happy."

"I like it," Brian said, nodding in approval. "Objections?"

Rin's eyes shifted toward Saber.

"I am willing to turn a blind eye to their criminality should their actions bring only minor harm. But to shield them from the sword of justice would be an affront to my honor," Saber said firmly.

Brian held up a hand.

"I can respect that," Brian replied. "How about this, then? We limit your protection to the gangs. The ABB. Empire. Whatever. In return, you pay a fair retainer, let's say five grand a month. Everything else like before. We good?"

Saber gave a stoic nod. "So long as our kindness is not abused, I find those terms acceptable. Shirou?"

Saber turned her gaze toward the redhead still lounging at Rin's side. Shirou stirred in his seat, posture attentive for the first time during our meeting.

"I have no objection," Shirou stated. Steel eyes flashed. "But if you step over the line, we will end you."

Lisa flashed a vulpine smile. "No need to worry about that. For capes, this is like a game of cops and robbers. We play the villains. The other side plays the heroes. We fight. Make some money. And have a little fun. At the end of the day, no one gets hurt."

I gave Lisa a dubious look.

"We settled, then? Your team helps us with the gangs and we – mostly meaning Lisa – help with your research," Brian asked, looking across his team to see if there was any dissent. "All in agreement?"

Regent raised a hand. "I am all for extra muscle the next time the ABB tries to ice us."

"More cash is always nice and, as I said before, I am interested in this Type-D myself. So, why the hell not?" Lisa said, throwing in her support.

Brian nodded. "Then it's three votes out of four. We will tell Rachel when-"

"Tell me what?" A new voice interrupted.

Rachel Lindt. Bitch. Or, if you were the PRT, Hellhound. The last member of the Undersiders ascended the stairs of the broken down factory to reach the living room. Rachel was a solidly built girl. Butch, with short auburn hair. Three dogs flanked her, prowling at her heel.

"Who the fuck are they?" Rachel demanded.

"Rin and her team," Brian answered, gesturing to the people gathered on the opposite couch. "You met Rin last night. We reached a deal. Lisa will help them with a research project. In return, they will offer their support next time we have a run in with the gangs."

Rachel eyed us suspiciously. "How do we know they are good for it?"

"That dark haired chick slapped down Lung," Alec reminded, rolling his eyes. "You don't get better proof than that."

"Those three could be for show. Pretending to help," Rachel glared at us, as though daring us to challenge her claim.

Three? Ah. Rachel had mistaken me for a member of Rin's crew. I will admit, I was a bit flattered by the thought. Rin, Saber, and Shirou were heroes. Story book heroes. The kind that went on an adventure to save the world. And, if Rin's own prowess was any indication, her team must be incredible.

I opened my mouth to correct her, but Saber stepped to the fore.

"If it is our mettle you wish to test, then I shall indulge your desire. But I cannot promise that you will be left unharmed," Saber said dangerously.

The air blurred around the diminutive blonde, whirling with embers of light. Saber's skirt and shirt turned to mist as steel plates and a dress of blue condensed out of thin air. Her stance shifted, gauntleted fists held out as though clutching an invisible weapon.

"Whoa!" Brian shot from his seat. He gestured broadly with his arms in an attempt to get things to settle. "Hey. Cool it, Rachel. And, Saber, please don't start any fights."

"I hear your words and will bear with your request," Saber responded. Her form did not budge an inch. If anything, her stance spread, steel boots sliding over concrete. "But, judging from the eyes of my adversary, I do not believe she will comply in this matter."

"You got that fucking right," Rachel growled.

Rachel whistled. A large Rottweiler at Rachel's heel shifted forward, shoulders hunched and a deep rumble rising from its throat. I could see its body thicken. Muscles surged underneath the dog's skin, becoming bulkier with each passing second. Canines sharpened, fangs extending until the razor teeth stretched past gums and lips. _Splitch._ With a sick sound, hardened bone tore through flesh.

In all of three breaths, the dog's mass had doubled.

"God dammit, Rachel!" Brian yelled. "Call Brutus off right fucking now."

Brian tried to untangle himself from the couch, but neither Alec nor Lisa bothered to move out of his way. Alec was watching the situation fall apart with undisguised amusement, while Lisa smiled as though she were about the watch the world's greatest comedian deliver his punch line. Rin's group was little different. Rin waited with bored eyes while Shirou could not be bothered to stir from his lounging position.

And Saber? Saber was intense. She waited, her face a mask of incredible focus.

"Brutus, attack!"

Brutus exploded forward. Taloned feet tore at the ground, the mighty beast gaining speed with each step. The small blonde stood stock-still, unwavered. The mass of claw and tooth lunged.

Saber moved.

One blink, Saber was standing a foot from a charging freight train. In the next, her invisible weapon crashed into Brutus with a shock wave of light. _Bang!_ I flinched at the noise, uncertain if the sound was from Saber's blow or the dog smashing into brick wall with shattering force. Brutus rolled shakily to his feet.

Saber put a boot on his neck and shoved the beast back to the ground.

"Desist or I will be forced to harm your companion further," Saber said plainly.

An invisible blade pressed against Brutus's throat, causing flesh to fold the slightest bit. Brutus whimpered desperately, pawing at the ground in hopes of escape. He did not budge an inch, despite the fact his mass was still increasing.

Rachel bared her teeth, hands curled in fists, body shaking. The two dogs at her side barked furiously but refused to approach.

Saber was utterly calm.

I stared, wide eyed. Brutus had not reached the sheer scale of the monsters I had seen last night, but even now Brutus outweighed Saber five times over. At a minimum. Despite that, Saber had crushed the alien monster with an almost causal ease.

Saber was a Brute. And a strong one at that.

"Are you satisfied now, Rachel?" Brian demanded, finally escaping the couch.

Instead of answering, Rachel huffed and leaned against the wall. Sensing her submission, Saber lifted her foot, freeing Brutus to scamper back to his master. I watched jealously as Saber's armor evanesced into light, restoring her civilian clothes.

Instant costume. That was too unfair.

"Sorry," Brian said, apologizing on Rachel's behalf. "Rachel can be... well."

"A Bitch," Alec supplied.

"That," Brian finished before facing Rin. "I hope you don't hold that against us."

Rin's lips curled with amusement. "Please. An attack on that level does not even constitute a threat. Is there anything else? Or are we at the end of our discussion?"

That was my cue.

The words stuck in my mouth. I wanted to speak up. To say something. Can I help? Can I join your team? But what if they said no? It was not as though I had anything real to offer. I was not a Thinker like Lisa and my power was as useless as they get. Control of bugs? What good was that? It certainly had not helped against Lung.

On my first day out, I had nearly died.

God, I had not even thanked her yet.

"Yeah, I think we are good," Brian said, nodding.

Rin's team stood. One-by-one they shook Brian's hand as they prepared to file out. Shit. Was I really going to sit here stewing in that sick, beaten down feeling I had learned in Winslow?

"Actually, there is one last thing to decide," Lisa interrupted. She looked straight at me, a playful smile on her lips. "Taylor."

All eyes were on me. I felt shy. Nervous. Small. But I was not about to screw this up after Lisa put me on the spot. I was a hero now. I was not allowed to hide.

I looked Rin straight in the eye.

"I want to join your team."

There. I said it. The ball was in their court.

Shirou's expression turned troubled. "Aren't you too young, and a girl besides?"

My hackles rose. Shirou's words were not harsh. In fact, they were kind. But they hurt and, frankly, pissed me off.

"Ouch, that was sexist," the curly haired boy said with a smarmy smile. "Just so you know, the Undersiders are equal opportunity villains."

"Though I would not have chosen my words so poorly, I agree with Shirou's assessment. The battlefield offers only death for the untrained and inexperienced," Saber interjected. She looked me firmly in the eye. "Taylor, rather than seek glory, you should hone your skill in war. If you should devote yourself to that task, then in six months I shall personally accept you as a member of our unit."

It took all my strength to not slump at their rejection. I reminded myself that they didn't say no.

Thinking it did not help.

"It might not be what you're looking for, but the Undersiders would be happy to have you," Brian offered.

I looked over the group. Alec nodded and Lisa gave me a smile. Rachel, though, looked anything but happy. To tell the truth, they seemed to be decent enough people. But they were villains. Criminals who thought it was one great big game. I could only imagine my Dad's face if I joined them. Me on TV, him watching in horror when I was arrested.

No. I could not join the Undersiders.

"Sorry, but I really don't want to be a villain," I said with a bitter smile.

Brian had a disappointed expression. "Too bad. It might sound a bit weird for a villain to say this, but you might try joining the Wards. Or if you do run as an independent, the Undersiders can offer a truce. It is the least we can do."

"Thanks," I said, offering a hand. "I think I can work with that. You're helping save the world, after all."

"Good hunting to you then, Taylor," Brian replied, returning my hand shake.

"No. We will take her."

It took me a second to trace the quiet laughter to the speaker. Rin was standing the near the stairs, hand spread over her face half hiding the evilest smile I had ever seen.

Saber and Shirou turned toward her.

"I will defer to your will on this matter, Rin, but I request to know your reasoning," Saber said.

Rin flipped her hair and gave a brilliant smile. "You know how antsy Shirou has been getting. It is only a matter of time before he tries something stupid. But if Taylor is with him, I am sure he can rein in his worst impulses."

Shirou folded his arms and glowered. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself."

"Oh?" Rin asked sweetly. "Who tried to fight Kuzuki and Caster all by himself?"

Shirou winced. "That was a long time ago, and the only reason you are alive is because I did that."

"Be that as it may, Shirou, you cannot disagree that should someone's life be in danger you would risk your own in order to save it," Rin retorted.

Saber nodded gravely.

"Rin, I retract my objection," Saber said. "Taylor and Shirou will make an excellent pair. Taylor's presence will serve to dissuade the worst of Shirou's foolishness, while Shirou's protectiveness will ensure that Taylor survives until she grows into a useful asset."

Ouch. I joined Shirou in cringing at that. But I could not say I didn't deserve it. Lung nearly killed me. Though I would have been happier without Alec's laughter. I glared at the curly haired boy. Alec smirked at my anger.

Rin approached with an extended hand and a warm smile. "It is an unpaid position, but if this is what you want, Taylor."

I paused and considered.

My choices for hero teams were limited in Brockton Bay. The Wards and New Wave. That was it. The Wards were a branch of the Protectorate created for underage capes. To me that meant teenage drama, which was something I absolutely did not need right now. New Wave, at least, would free me of that. In return, I would have to unmask myself to the public. And... well... after doing so, I doubt my Dad would be willing to let me join the team.

Then there was Rin's crew.

Before today, I had never heard of them. They were either new in town or they had been keeping their heads down. I knew nothing of their methods or reputation. All I knew about Rin's character was that she was willing to save a poor, injured girl, no questions asked.

If I joined her team and I was wrong... If Rin was not who she seemed...

Regrets would be the least of my worries.

I could not live as an independent. Last night taught me that. If I wanted to be a hero, I needed a team. Rin had the only hero team in Brockton Bay that would take me on terms I could accept. And I wanted to be on her team. I wanted to be part of a plan to save the world.

My choice was obvious.

I took her hand.

-oOo-

After leaving the Undersiders' hideout, we loaded up in Saber's black sedan. Rin wanted a debrief before I retired, and I wanted to know what my new team had to offer. Rin took shotgun, leaving me stuck in the back with Shirou.

I shot curious glances at the man.

The redhead had been mostly silent through the meeting, so I did not have a good handle on his personality. Given that Shirou was the one who objected to my presence, I was not sure how to break the ice.

And Shirou, unfortunately, was not the type that talked.

It made for an awkward ride.

Saber took us to the north end of the city, winding her way up the Boardwalk before turning into a small, wooded neighborhood halfway between the Market and the Boat Graveyard. Oak Hill, a proud sign proclaimed.

A century ago, Oak Hill had been a rich subdivision that overlooked the bay. Its day had long passed. The rise of the Docks had brought a surge of pollution that had driven away the richest families. The neighborhood had gained a brief respite in the 90s as the economy fell, but then a rising wave of crime had inundated the area. Now, only those too stubborn to leave remained.

Half the houses in Oak Hill were debilitated. It was a diverse mix, two story buildings of a later age blending seamlessly with Victorian mansions. The other half were empty lots, the buildings bulldozed by an opportunistic real estate company. Rampart Realty. I could see their signs everywhere.

The sedan turned, following a rising road until I could see the rippling ocean from my window. Gravel shifted audibly under the tires, the asphalt having given way long ago. As we reached the top of the hill, I found myself looking at a well cared for estate.

Rin and the others must have been rich to afford it. In a different time, a mansion with a view of the bay would have commanded a price between two and three million dollars. Now? After the neighborhood had fallen into ruin? It was worth a lot less. I was not sure by how much, but it certainly would not have been cheap.

But that was not what caught my attention.

The estate was a void. A block of absolute nothingness drawn along rule straight lines. Inside that gap I could not sense a single bug.

It was the single eeriest thing I had ever encountered.

Saber pulled up to the gate and tapped a button attached to the sun visor. The wrought iron gate pulled back. Saber rolled on, passing from the gravel road to a concrete drive way. Crossing the property line was like a wall. Ice crawled through my nerves. A million creepy crawlies exploded into my awareness. They wiggled through the ground, skittered in the walls, and fluttered about the house.

The flood of information was like a knife to my skull. I clutched at my head, hissing under my breath.

Shirou turned, looking concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Headache," I answered, pressing my thumbs against my temples. The throbbing was already fading. "What the hell did you do to the place? I couldn't sense any bugs until we went inside."

Rin twisted in her seat, staring at me with undisguised interest. "Really? Fascinating. Can you sense the insects outside the field now?"

I blinked a few times then focused.

"Yeah, but they are fuzzy. Like I am looking through a screen."

That was a terrible analogy. The scope and breadth were far more complicated than that. I could see through my bugs, hear through my bugs, and feel their position. It was just that everything was off. Muted. The position data was numbed and misplaced by centimeters, the visuals occluded by artifacts, and the sounds dulled as though my ears had been stuffed with cotton.

" _Hmm_ , the barrier must be interfering with your ability, but that implies that it shares the same thaumaturgic root as scrying. I will have to set up a few bounded fields and-"

"Rin, you may experiment on her later," Saber said firmly.

"Experiment!" My voice rose in alarm.

Rin smiled evilly. "I did say that I wanted to research parahumans."

The black sedan pulled into the garage while Shirou offered an unhelpful smirk.

"Welcome to the team."

I exited the car a hell of a lot more leery than I entered it.

Shirou and Rin led me into the main house while Saber remained behind to lovingly buff her vehicle. The mansion was gorgeous. The polished woodwork gleamed with rich depths. The interior, however, was mostly empty. It felt new. Barely lived in. As though Rin and the others were still in the process of the claiming the massive space the house offered as their own.

After taking off our shoes, Rin directed me down a hall and into a cozy living room with a knee high table.

Shirou vanished into the kitchen.

Rin sat, folding her legs underneath her as she sank onto a cushion. I mimed her motion, shifting uncomfortably as my weight settled upon my feet. I distracted myself by focusing on the table in front of me.

"This is Japanese, right?" I asked.

"Yes. It's Shirou's. I had him bring it with us when we moved to England and now here," Rin answered, a nostalgic smile forming on her face. Her hand brushed the surface. Then her sharpened gaze focused on me. "Before we settle in, is there anywhere you need to be tonight?"

I moved to answer then froze. A chill swept down my spine. Suddenly, I was all too aware that I was in the house of a cape I did not know. A cape who, twice now, had expressed in interest in experimenting on me.

A cape whose team included a mind manipulating Master.

Fuck. I had forgotten that it was Rin's crew who had altered my Dad's memories.

My heart went _pitter-patter_. Panic begin to rise. I swallowed. I had no allies and no one would miss me except my Dad. My Dad, who for all I knew, was already under their control.

I was screwed and that was assuming Rin's crew had not mind fucked me already.

Weirdly, realizing that actually _helped_. In for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying goes. I had made my decision and there was no sense worrying about events beyond my control.

I shifted in my seat, discretely maneuvering my legs so they were crossed Indian-style.

"Dad gets off work around five, so I will have to be home before that," I answered, deciding to be honest.

"... I see," Rin said, looking disappointed.

"Is that going to be a problem?" I asked.

"No. I would have liked to send you out with Shirou tonight, but I suppose that can wait until later."

Oh. That was all. I had been worried about nothing.

"I can call and let him know I will be late," I offered.

Rin pondered for a moment. Then her eyes narrowed. "Taylor, are you keeping this secret from your father?"

I winced, my eyes shifting to the side as I felt a pang of guilt. I knew it was selfish, but I did not want my Dad to know I was a cape. Mom's death had nearly destroyed him. Between that, the bullies, and the work at the Docks, he had been stretched to his emotional limit.

I did not think he could take me being in danger on top of all that.

If I told him, he would want to protect me. But I couldn't be protected. I _needed_ this. If I did not have something meaningful to do I would go insane.

"Can we not tell him?" I asked, sounded very much like the fifteen year old girl I was.

"I see," Rin said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. She broke into a sudden smile. "Then how about this. Shirou will pick you up around twelve. Is there a good place for you to wait nearby?"

"Yeah. There is a small park called Pinewood Plaza about a mile from my house," I answered. "Uh... aren't you bothered?"

"Bothered? That you are hiding this from your father? Why would I be bothered?" Rin asked with surprise. "Magi are secretive by nature. If your father does not share your abilities, it is only natural that you would not tell him. Are parahumans different?"

I blinked in surprise and struggled to shift mental gears at Rin's dismissal.

But it was a good question. Were capes secretive? I had never thought of us as such. For all that we wore masks, we did little to hide our power. Rin, though, made me wonder. I knew from tidbits of parahuman psychology that being a cape changed things. That much was without debate. But what, exactly, it changed was something I did not know.

I found myself wishing that I had taken the time to look it up.

Shirou emerged from the kitchen, disrupting further contemplation. He came bearing a tray of tea and snacks, a chef's apron thrown over his front. And not just any apron. A girly apron. The kind hemmed with cute little ruffles.

I was an awe. In awe of Shirou's overwhelming, I don't give a shit, masculinity.

Shirou set a ceramic cup in front of the two of us. Then, with a _clank_ , placed a glass syringe and wooden necklace next to Rin.

"Before you forget," Shirou said sternly.

Rin's eyes widened in confusion. "What? Oh. Oh! Thank you, Shirou."

The tall redhead exited the room with a slight nod. I watched him go, appreciating his muscled form as he left. Nice. But Brian was cuter.

I flicked my eyes back to the table.

"What are those for?" I asked nervously.

"I will explain later. For now, put this on," Rin said, shoving the necklace toward me before setting a notepad on the table. "Okay. Let's get started. Describe to me, in your own words, the nature of your parahuman ability."

I stared at the syringe suspiciously. I was not that type that hated needles, but that did not mean I liked being stuck by them either. My gaze shifted to the necklace. It was a simple thing. A wooden icon attached to a leather cord. The icon was carved in the shape of a winged lion then stained red by... blood?

That was kind of _eew_.

I swallowed my distaste and threw it over my head, figuring that the necklace was a badge symbolizing my membership to Rin's team.

"For the most part, I can control bugs," I stated, finally answering the question. "Though I am not strictly limited to bugs. I can control crabs, earth worms, and other small critters as well. Basically, anything with a simple brain."

Rin scratched out a few words and nodded. "Do you know where the cut off point is?"

"Cut off point?"

"The upper and lower bounds of mental complexity," Rin explained. "Preferably we would get a measurement on the scale of neurons, though milliliters of cranial capacity would suffice."

Cranial capacity? That was... incredibly exacting. It had never occurred to me to approach the question in those terms. Though, even if I had, I would not have known how to get that kind of data.

"I never attempted to measure it," I answered honestly, shaking my head. "I know for certain I cannot control anything without a brain. So no to plants and bacteria. Of creatures with brains, I have never found a lower limit. I have always wanted to try my power on a Roundworm C. Elegans – the animal with the simplest known neural structure – but I never could my hands on one."

Rin gave me an approving smile. "Good. Then you have, at least, made a serious effort to test the limits of your ability."

"I am not an idiot," I replied. "My ability is weak enough without me crippling myself further. I would feel like a real moron if, after struggling to take down a heavy duty cape, I discovered that I could do so easily by manipulating their gut flora."

" _Hmm_ ," Rin noised in consideration as she took a sip of tea. "If size is not an issue, can you control dust mites?"

I froze. I was pretty certain that was a no. I mean, I would be able sense everything if I could, right? "Do dust mites even have brains?"

Rin cocked her head slightly. "I am not certain of that myself. We can look it up later. Range?"

"About two blocks." I raised a forestalling hand. "And no, I have not measured it. Two blocks is a little long to crosscheck with measuring tape."

"Then we will get exact numbers in the next few weeks," Rin declared, flipping to the next page of her notebook. "Can you alter the shape of your field?"

"No. I tried that after my first month. My power affects a perfect sphere with no deviations," I answered. It would have been nice if it were otherwise. If I could focus my power into a thin cone, I would be able to launch an attack from halfway across the city. Pity. "Uh, I'm not sure about this, but I think my range changes depending on my mood."

Rin's eyes snapped up and she quickly scribbled out a note.

"Is that important?"

"If we hypothesize that parahuman powers share the same origin as thaumaturgic mysteries, then individual powers are best described as an organic mystic code. The static, spherical shape supports this notion. However, the change in range is deviant...," Rin's voice trailed off into a mumble. "Is the power, perhaps, more flexible than it appears?"

Her pen traced its way across the paper, filling one page then a second. After a moment, I realized that Rin was not going to stop any time soon.

"Flexible? Do think my range can be increased?" I asked, hopeful.

I had spent months studying my powers before throwing on my costume, trying to learn what I could and could not do. A fair portion of my effort had been spent trying to improve my power. I never had any luck and, from what I had researched on the net, few capes had much either.

Rin looked up from her notebook. "Are you familiar with the Manton Effect?"

I nodded. "The Manton Effect is what prevents a cape's power from hurting themselves. For instance, forcefield generators are typically unable to create forcefields within a living body."

"In essence, yes," Rin lectured. "The Manton Effect describes a 'hard coded limit' to a parahuman's power. The expression of this effect is virtually identical to what is seen when a mystery is evoked through a crest or mystic code. For instance..."

The dark haired woman held out an arm. Glowing, green lines traced the limb in a criss-crossing series of patterns reminiscent of a circuit. A ball of inky black formed, hovering an inch beyond her hand.

"This is the mystery gandr when cast using the Tohsaka crest. There are a number of variables I can adjust, but the result for any particular input will be exactly identical."

Rin flicked her wrist, vanishing the shadowy curse. Then she drew her hand in a circle, muttering " _entzünden_ " under her breath. A circle of pale blue flame spread overhead, oddly cool despite the crackling light.

"And this is the classical evocation of fire, using my natural circuits. Observe the raggedness in the formation. This is a sign that the mystery's strength is inconsistent across the breadth. More importantly, I have complete control over independent attributes such as power, color, or point of origin."

I glanced at the flames. Like Rin said, the thickness of the ring varied throughout the length. However, having never studied her 'gandr', it was impossible to tell the difference.

"Wait a second," I said, sounding alarmed. "Are you saying that you can create a fire anywhere?"

"Not anywhere. There are emergent limits." Rin paused, humming lightly to herself as she thought how to phrase her next words. Then she shifted into a picture perfect lecture pose, left arm crossed over her hips, right raised with her pointer finger extended. "Consider, for a moment, a one kilogram mass. Whether that mass is a meter away or half-a-meter, lifting the object one meter in height would require ten joules of energy, correct?"

"Nine-point-eight," I corrected. "But yeah, that is basic physics."

Yes, I was a little bit nerdy.

Rin nodded. "However, if you tried to lift both masses with your arm, the more distant mass would definitely feel twice as heavy. This is due to leverage. Simply put, the further from your body you hold an object, the less efficient the application of force becomes.

"The same principle applies to thaumaturgy. Evoking a mystery requires a certain amount of prana, energy, and a certain amount of 'force'. The more distant the point of origin, the less force a magus is able to apply. Eventually, if the distance is great enough, it becomes impossible to evoke a mystery no matter how minor."

"But if you have sufficient 'leverage' and 'energy', you could create a fire inside another person, right?" I asked.

"Correct," Rin said with a pleased smile. "I could even create one inside myself. In fact, I once saw a student at the Clock Tower incinerate his arm when he did exactly that. Of course, creating fire inside another person is rarely practical. Living flesh resists the intrusion of prana and any decent magus will actively fight the mystery, rendering it void."

Because _clearly_ it was ordinary for capes to resist Manton breaking effects. I refrained from voicing my exasperation. There were capes that would kill for that ability, and they were small in number compared to those who died wishing they could resist the same.

Rin had described herself as a magus. I was not yet willing to use that term myself. There were a lot of kooky capes that called themselves wizards and I had no desire to join that 'prestigious' group. But it was becoming clear that, whatever Rin was, it was not a cape.

"Let's see if I got this straight," I said, putting the pieces together in my head. "There are natural and... _designed_ limits to mysteries. Since my range is wobbly, it's probably the former and 'leverage' limited rather than hard coded?"

"Precisely," Rin answered. "However, it's too early to make that claim for certain. If it is indeed a leverage problem then we should be able to extend it with– … and we have veered off subject. Where were we again?"

I deflated a little when Rin cut off. I reminded myself that I could ask her about _range extension_ later.

"You asked if I could alter the area effected by my power."

"Yes. Yes that is right," Rin murmured, flipping through her notes. "Ah. Then next question. How many insects can you control?"

"All of them."

Rin blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I control all the insects in my range, period," I clarified. "If I have a limit, I have not found it. I once tried collecting every flier over a ten mile run and never felt the strain. Maybe if I gathered enough bugs I would hit a wall. But, as far as I can tell, that number is so far beyond what I can reasonably access as to be infinite."

Rin frowned. It seemed that my statement really bothered her.

"Another insight?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes. No. Not yet," Rin answered, her face scrunched up with consternation. Then she waved it off. "We have speculated enough tonight. How fine is your control?"

"I can control my insects at the individual level," I answered.

Rin jotted down a note. "Do you micromanage or macro-manage?"

That one made me pause.

"Uh... a little of both I guess?" I answered vaguely.

Rin frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"For the most part I give broad instructions," I answered. "Attack that person. Block their vision. Form a clone. Airlift the walkers. But, at the same time, I am micromanaging my bugs to do it." I sighed. "It's impossible to explain unless you have experienced it yourself."

"That doesn't make sense," Rin murmured, her frown deepening. Then her eyes lit up. "Ah! Tell me, Taylor, how many human thoughts can you complete at once?"

"Human thoughts?" I asked confused.

"Hmm... how should I say it? What I am asking is, can you have your insects do things only a human can do? For instance, could you have them read a hundred books at the same time?"

Read a hundred books at once? Why would I-

Stupid. I mentally cursed myself. How had I missed something like that? The ability to consume multiple threads of information would be incredibly useful. The sheer amount of research I could conduct... Of course, implementing that scheme would be far from simple. I would require a large number of books, a mechanism to flip pages, and a way to explain my setup to my Dad. Then there was the more pressing problem that insects did not have the right type of eyes to distinguish small lettering.

Maybe if I layered the species? In that case the variant visuals would combine-

"If you don't know, it's fine."

Rin's words knocked me from my reverie. I was getting ahead of myself. Before planning out how to use my hypothetical multi-tasking ability, I should first verify it existed.

That, however, was something I could learn relatively quickly.

"Hold on for a second," I said, raising a forestalling hand. "I think I can check."

I scrunched my brow in concentration.

Dealing with insectile perception was tricky. Insects had sensory organs that were different than those of humans. And that was not the worst of it. They perceived information that was entirely foreign to the human brain. Data flows that were, at best, gibberish to me. At worst? Ice picks thrust straight through my temples.

Normally, I operated on positioning data. I knew where all the insects under my control were, down to the millimeter. A perfect spacial awareness. Visual information was also easy to work with. For all that bug eyes were terrible, my mind had little trouble converting the information into comprehensible shapes.

Hearing what they heard?

 _That_ was hard.

It was not so much the sheer amount input. I could handle input. It was the frequencies. I could not parse them. Worse. Trying _hurt_. For the first few days that I had my power the sheer noise had almost driven me mad. It was only luck that I had stumbled upon a method to shut those senses off.

And the less said about smells and tastes the better.

The invisible barrier Rin had erected made what I was trying all the more difficult. My connection to the bugs outside her estate was fogged up and the visuals were filled with blurs and ripples. But, as a girl who wore glasses, I was used to dealing with poor vision. So I made due, mostly by piling up a swarm of varied fliers so that my feed contained the widest variety of information possible.

Then I tried to read the large, block lettering that declared the address of all the surrounding houses.

And I could not do it.

I sensed every tree. I knew every street. I could count the exact number of humans within my range. I was, quite simply, aware of _everything_. If my insects knew it, I knew it. I had multiple angles of sight. An ocean of information and my finger tips.

But the signs? I could only read them one at a time.

I tried to strain myself. It did not help. My insects could _see_ the metal numbers. I could trace the lines and curves. But, until I focused my will on an individual address, it remained unintelligible gibberish.

I drew away from my swarm having grasped something new and profound about the limits of my power.

"One," I breathed. "I can only think one human thought at a time."

Rin smiled brightly. "Then would I be correct to presume that you sense everything your insects sense? Possibly down to the individual level?"

"Yeah," I answered.

Rin nodded to herself.

"Your parahuman ability appears to be a form of expanded consciousness. Your mind spreads across the insects under your control, forming a 'super consciousness'. The insects, in essence, become a fragment of your mind. Or more accurately, they absorb a fragment of your intent and intellect. From a functional perspective, it is incorrect to say that you control the insects. Rather, they control themselves, but in a manner that corresponds with your will."

My eyes widened. "That's why you asked how many human thoughts I could think at one time."

"Correct," Rin said approvingly. "If you could form hundreds of human thoughts simultaneously, that would imply your were replicating your mind into each insect. The fact that you cannot means that the independent brains remain, but are instead suborned. More interesting, though, is the level of coordination that exists within your network."

I frowned. "Couldn't it be that I am able to hyper multi-task?"

Rin shook her head. "No. If your intellect had been transformed to the extent that you could think millions of insect thoughts, you would definitely no longer qualify as human."

I grimaced and was for the first time glad that was _not_ how my power worked. Triggers could mess with a cape's head. That was a well known fact on the net. It was rather terrifying to imagine what would have become of me if I had true multi-tasking.

Would I have lost the capacity to love? To think or understand from a human perspective? The ability to communicate? Or would those features have become so distorted that they were made a monstrous mockery of humanity?

I shuddered.

Saber walked in.

The stoic blonde cast her gaze across the two of us before stooping down to snag a handful of snacks. "Rin, do you know where Shirou has gone?"

"Hmm?" Rin noised, looking up. "Last I saw he was in the kitchen. But he may have gone to the workshop," she answered. Rin glanced around. "Do you know the time?"

"Half-past three," Saber answered. "Rin, I am heading out for a ride. When you see Shirou, inform him that I have borrowed his map. I will add notes while I complete my scouting mission."

"I will make sure he knows," Rin confirmed. "Ah! Saber, I need to take Taylor back before five. Do you mind if I borrow your car?"

The blonde girl stiffened. Saber folded her arms, standing tall as though she were delivering judgment.

"To pilot my ship is a grave responsibility," she warned. "Know that if it is returned in disrepair, there will be an accounting."

Rin smiled sweetly, brow twitching. "Of course."

Saber gave Rin a final, stern look then exited the room.

I raised an eyebrow. "Ship?"

"And she calls her motorcycle her steed," Rin answered with an worn sigh. "It is getting late, so we should wrap this up."

"No more questions, then?" I asked wryly.

"None for now. What I learned is sufficient to determine your role."

My expression fell. I had known that Rin's probing had more to it than satisfying her interest in capes. She wanted to understand my powers and through that figure out how useful I was. I shrank in my seat. For all that I had learned in the past hour, control of bugs remained far from the most spectacular ability.

"It's not a very good power, I know."

Rin blinked. "Why would you say that? Certainly you lack offense and defense, but in terms of intelligence gathering your parahuman ability is top notch."

I perked up.

A support cape.

I had never thought of myself in those terms. But I could see where Rin was going. Rin was a heavy hitter and, given what I had seen of Saber's 'brute' strength, she was the same. Between the two of them, Rin's crew was bleeding fire power. Looking at it that way, what they really needed was an ability that helped them deploy that power more efficiently.

And I could do that. I had an omniscient view of the battlefield. I could suppress lesser threats and distract more powerful foes. I could sabotage enemy plots, identify enemies in stealth, collect intelligence, and otherwise attack from any angle on the field.

Yeah. I could see how I would be useful. I would need to revise my training. Before today, I had constructed my tactics on the assumption I would be fighting on my own. Instead, I would need to focus on support skills. Improved senses would be a good start. Last night I had caught fragments of conversations too distant to hear. That was something I had never managed before.

"Got it. I can work from that angle," I said, nodding in agreement.

"Good. I will leave it to you and Shirou to develop tactics," Rin said. She stood. Glass rattled when her leg brushed against the table drawing her attention down. "Ah! I almost forgot." Rin formed a sadistic smile. "Taylor, before I take you home, I need fifty milliliters of your blood. Do you want me to collect it, or are you fine with doing it yourself?"

Fifty milliliters! I stared at glass syringe. It was huge, thick, and marked by dark lines. Fifty was the final indicator on the cylinder.

I gulped.

"What do you need my blood for, anyway?" I asked, hoping to delay the inevitable.

"I need to soak a runestone for twenty-four hours to properly associate you with the barrier. Now stop being a baby and give me your arm."

Cringing internally, I bravely offered my limb. Rin expertly tied off my bicep then thrust the needle into a vein. The plunger drew back slowly, filling the glass with a burgundy liquid. To take my mind off the life being drawn from my body, I turned to conversation.

"I take it you are talking about the barrier around the house?"

"Yes," Rin answered. She pulled the needle free and cleaned the tip with a cloth. She took a second to judge the volume before deciding she was satisfied. "I placed a number bounded fields on our property shortly after we moved here. Defenses against intrusion, spying, and malicious mysteries. Didn't I talk about this before?"

"No," I said slowly. I was beginning to get the impression that, while Rin was exceptionally bright, she was more than a little lax when it came to the details. "You did not."

"Then I should be clear," Rin declared. "This house is under a number of protections, none of which will be a problem as long as you are accompanied. But there are certain rules you must obey. Do not enter the basement or toolshed. Do not try to bring a friend. And if for whatever reason you need to enter this house without an invitation, make sure you are wearing that necklace."

The first two rules I had no chance of breaking. I was not the type to explore a stranger's house. The thought of doing so struck me as rude. I was even less likely to bring a friend over. In the first place, I did not have any to bring. And that was ignoring how utterly stupid it would be to mix my civilian and cape life.

"And if I don't?"

"You will die," Rin said matter-of-factly. "The necklace is a temporary measure. I should have you keyed into the primary field in two to three days. However, the basement and the toolshed are a separate issue. Unless Shirou or I formally accept you as an apprentice, those locations are absolutely forbidden. Understood?"

I nodded stiffly. Die. Rin said it with a casualness that sent chills down my spine. Cape fights were a common occurrence in Brockton Bay. Deaths, though, were shockingly rare. Heroes took in villains alive, and villains went out of their way to defeat heroes without inflicting permanent injury. This kiddie glove approach extended to non-cape criminals.

Killing was just not done.

But with Rin's blasé attitude I could imagine her standing over a corpse, bright blue eyes wide with surprise. _Kill him? Of course we killed him. Why wouldn't we?_

I had to remind myself that Rin had left Lung alive.

Because the image was all too believable.

Draining my cup, I stood, indicating my readiness to leave. "So, Shirou and I will meet up at twelve, right?"

"Yes," Rin said, putting the syringe in a wooden box. She took the lead, guiding me back to the garage. "Make sure you are properly equipped. Oh, and try to get a bit of rest, because you will be up late tonight."

I nodded and made a note to set my alarm for eleven-thirty. Rin was right. Too many sleepless nights in a row could become a real problem. Last thing I needed was to start a cape fight in a daze.

"Anything else I need to know?"

"I will leave the details to Shirou," Rin said with a dismissive wave. Then her eyes narrowed with ferocity. "There is one thing though. You're not allowed to fall for him."

My brain froze. What the hell? I suddenly flushed with anger. Forget the fact that Shirou was ten years too old for me. What kind of girl did Rin think I was?

"I'm not going to steal your boyfriend," I spat, feeling the heat of indignation.

"Good, because after finding a bed wide enough to fit three, I refuse to return to schedule," Rin retorted with a huff. She flipped her hair then wagged her finger again in warning. "So no falling for Shirou. Got it?"

...

Three?

Surely she was not...

No that was impossible. Rin could not be implying that she, Saber, and Shirou... Oh god, that was _exactly_ what she implying. Shirou was... The three of them were... My face heated up as red as a tomato. How did that even work? Didn't they get jealous? And they were all in the same bed at the same time!

…

Father, your pure, innocent daughter has fallen into a pit of debauchery.

-oOo-

 _ **Dossier – Shirou Emiya – Enforcer Unit 09**_

 _Subject is designated: Friendly. Unauthorized confrontation will be punished per the rules described in Enforcer Codex Section 36-B._

 _Threat Assessment [A+]  
Strength: D  
Endurance: D  
Agility: C  
Mana: B  
Luck: E  
* Listed attributes are Servant Class_

 _Shirou Emiya is primarly known for his use of extreme reinforcement and projection in combat. Despite the simplicity of his magecraft, Shirou represents is a near Servant class threat, fully capable of engaging a Dead Apostle Ancestor in direct combat. Avoid melee engagement at all costs._

 _Shirou's magecraft is deceptively dangerous. He is capable of projecting fully functional mystic codes with all powers intact [Milan, December 7th, 2009]. As such, his power and versatility are greater than his academics imply. The effectiveness of this tactic is not to be underestimated, as Shirou has demonstrated the ability to generate effects equal A rank mysteries [Darkhan, March 14th, 2009]._

 _Subject Background:_  
 _Shirou Emiya was adopted by Kiritsugu Emiya [Dossier – Magus Killer, The] in the aftermath of the Fourth Grail War. However, he failed to inherit the Emiya crest and, as such, is effectively a first generation magus. Shirou was a participant in the Fifth Grail War._

 _Shirou joined the Clock Tower on May 31st, 2005 as the apprentice of Rin Tohsaka [Dossier – Rin Tohsaka – Enforcer Unit 09]. Shirou consistently demonstrated below average ability in his classes – excepting the mysteries reinforcement, alteration, and projection for which he excelled. Despite his poor performance, Shirou's accomplishments were deemed sufficient to earn him a formal invitation from the Clock Tower on June 1st, 2008. He declined and instead joined the Enforcers, July 7th, 2008._

 _After completing basic training, Shirou promptly joined his master as part of Enforcer Unit 09. His record as an Enforcer remains impeccable, with twenty-three dead apostles hunts completed in his first year alone. Shirou is directly responsible for the death of the Twenty-sixth Dead Apostle Ancestor – Itet._


	3. Chapter 3

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 3  
** -oOo-

Pinewood Plaza was a dirty place. Smashed paper cups, cigarette butts, and discarded plastic peeked from the grass and bushes. The park was tiny, covering only twice the area of my back yard. At the plaza's center was a play set for children. Time had not been kind. The metal was rusted and twisted with age. An eager kid was as likely to get impaled as to successfully descend the slide.

Maybe, once upon a time, it had been a nicer place. I doubted it. The park felt dingy at its root. Even the trees seemed to droop in despair. Maple trees, all. There were seven in total, leaving me to conclude that the name _P_ _inewood_ _Plaza_ had been chosen solely for its alliterative qualities.

I arrived in the park a quarter before midnight. Street lights provided yellowed illumination, highlighting the chitinous armor in my costume. I had tried to take a nap earlier, as Rin had suggested. Despite having lain down in bed a little after seven, I had managed a mere two hours.

I was wired. Bursting with barely contained energy. Tonight I was heading into the city as a _super_ _hero_ with my _team_. This was the real thing. Not a game. Not an idiot teenager going out on her own. No, _this_ was my childhood dream given form.

Shirou arrived five minutes later.

The tall redhead was dressed in gray windbreaker, sweat pants, and a pair of tennis shoes. At a glance, he looked no different than a hundred other civilians. Perhaps a bit odd on account of him being out and about late at night, but I wouldn't have glanced twice if I jogged by him on the boardwalk during my morning run.

No costume. No mask.

Didn't I feel as awkward as hell?

"I didn't keep you waiting, did I?" Shirou asked.

"No. I was early," I replied, rising from my gang sign covered bench.

And so was Shirou. Ten minutes early, in fact. What drove him? The need to check the zone before I arrived? The fear of getting lost? Or, perhaps he was just being polite.

Shirou was the member of Rin's team about whom I had learned the least. The nature of his power and the foundations of his personality were unknown to me. My current speculation had him pegged as the team's mysterious Master. Which, given Shirou's love life...

Well, lets just say I feared I standing next to Heartbreaker II.

Before leaving I took care to cross my T's and dot my I's by recording my feelings in a brand new diary. It was paranoid action, I will admit. Likely as not I had nothing to worry about. Even if I did, I was doubtful that it would provide any protection against Shirou's theoretic Master power.

Besides, if I _did_ end up starry-eyed in love, I would be better served worrying about how Rin's bed was too small to fit four...

... God, did I just think that?

Mind out of the gutter, Taylor. Don't think about Saber, Rin, and...

I wasn't helping myself, was I?

"Rin briefed me on your powers," Shirou interjected. "But she failed to mention your level of experience."

Grateful to escape my downward spiral, I focused on Shirou's question.

"Lung was my first time out," I answered truthfully. I winced, realizing how bad that sounded. "But I've been preparing for months," I added quickly.

Good going, Taylor, that was real convincing.

If Shirou was put off by my background, he showed no sign of it. His steel eyes swept over me, stopping briefly on my belt.

"Do you have a weapon?" he asked.

"I have–" I fished in my utility pack for my half-used bottle of pepper spray, but my hand returned empty. "Uh... _had_ some pepper spray," I hedged, all too aware how pathetic I looked. "But I must have lost it in the fight against Lung."

"That kind of carelessness will get you killed," Shirou reprimanded.

It hurt. More so because I knew he was right. Again I had rushed into the dark unprepared. I hadn't even checked my pack before leaving. I was, evidently, no less an idiot teenager than last night. My shoulders slumped. Not sure of what to say, I nodded.

Shirou huffed lightly, his lips curling with a hint of amusement. "Don't worry. I'll keep you alive while you gain experience. _Trace on_."

A short bladed sword crystallized from thin air. The wavy steel edge ended in a sharp point, with a jutting triangle of metal serving as a cross-guard. It was beautiful. Shadowy ripples covered the blade, reminiscent of flowing water, while a trio of grooves traced the length before rolling into a flowered pattern near the hilt.

Shirou flipped the long dagger in his hand, caught the tip, then offered me the handle.

I took the weapon. It felt light. Like a feather. Unreal. Unnatural. Scratch that, it _was_ unnatural. Shirou had just created it out of nothing. I eyed the sword's edge. Sharp enough to carve steel.

I turned the weapon in my grip then returned the dagger the hilt first. "I don't want to be rude, but can you make something a little less likely to kill the first person I swing it at?"

Shirou's eyes narrowed as he contemplated my words. Then his lips twisted into a smirk. Light coiled around the blade. The sword twisted. Steel rolled over steel, spiraling until it formed a thin, metal baton.

"Better?" Shirou asked, offering me the weapon anew.

"Yeah," I said as I took it. "Thanks."

I slipped my new baton through a loop in my belt, applauding my foresight on that purchase. Suitably armed, I adjusted the weight of my equipment and looked up at Shirou.

"What's the plan?"

"We are scouting the Merchants," Shirou answered. "This is strictly an intelligence mission, so the goal is to avoid engagement if possible."

There were three big parahuman gangs in Brockton Bay – the Empire Eighty Eight, the Azn Bad Boys, and the Archer's Bridge Merchants. Most outsiders, if asked which was the worst, would finger the E88. The E88 were, to put it simply, Nazis. They were racist bigots buried neck deep in Hitler's master race bullshit. The kind of assholes who made a conscious effort to shit on every minority they came across.

But funny thing was, if you asked someone from Brockton Bay the same question, they would name the Merchants. Don't get me wrong. The Empire Eighty Eight were scum. Powerful, racist scum. Hell, they practically owned the North side. It was just that the Merchants were so much worse.

The E88 beat up Muslims, Asians, and Blacks. They threw bricks through windows, took bats to cars, and drove them out of town.

The Merchants? They dragged teenagers into dark alleys then shot them up with heroin. They kidnapped girls and forced them into prostitution. I had seen the dregs they left. A female classmate ruined by disease. A strung out kid whose life was in shambles. The kind of shit that made my problems seem small. And that still wasn't the worst. The worst were the stories you didn't hear. Human trafficking. Slave labor. The rotted out guts of the city they occupied.

The drugs they sold? The people they robbed? The lives they ruined by just fucking existing? All that was tiny in comparison.

Yes, the ABB and E88 were bad, but at the end of the day they wanted a living, thriving city as much as the rest of us. The Merchants? They were a cancer, a vile plague spreading its tendrils, feeding off the festering flesh, and choking away what little life Brockton Bay still had.

"Sounds good," I said, feeling happy about the mission already. "How we going to do this?"

"First, you can wear this," Shirou said, stripping off his windbreaker. "Second, you can lose the mask."

I took the jacket with a scowl. Luckily, I was a tall girl. Otherwise it would have swallowed me entirely.

"What if we get seen?" I asked, not liking the idea of my face being exposed.

"No masks because we might get seen," Shirou said sternly. "This is an intelligence mission. We don't want to tip the enemy off."

I couldn't argue with that. Well I _could_. More, I really wanted to. But the logic was sound. I just did not like where the conclusion led.

"Dammit," I said, uncertain whether I was cursing myself or the redhead. I took off my mask. "I didn't bring my glasses."

With a flick of his wrist, Shirou pulled a pair of spectacles from the aether. I put them on. The prescription was perfect. Hell, scratches on the lenses were the same as my own. Why? Because Shirou's power was bullshit, that was why.

At least he probably wasn't the Master.

"How fast can you move?" Shirou asked.

"I run every morning, but I don't have a Mover rating if that is what you asking," I answered.

"Then we will talk while we run."

The redhead took off at a light jog. I trailed, matching his pace. After a block, I could tell he was holding back. I refrained from issuing a complaint. Merchant territory was North of the Docks, about five miles from our position. A pretty ordinary run. But my ordinary runs did not risk ending in a fight.

"I have been tracking down Merchant fronts for the last several months," Shirou said. "Tonight our goal is to observe and confirm. We will close in on potential Merchant bases then ascertain the degree of activity within. What we are looking for are gathering points, distribution centers, armories, and supply depots."

"And if we find anything major?" I asked.

Shirou glanced in my direction. "We mark them and move on."

I frowned. That made me feel a bit better about the lack of masks. Just a bit. "We aren't planning on doing anything then?"

Shirou shook his head. "The current situation is stable. The PRT and Protectorate have been withholding their strength to avoid rocking the boat. The gangs themselves have settled into a quiet truce while they build strength."

I nearly missed a step. A sharp, furious anger lanced through me. The Protectorate was _holding back?_ How could they? Protecting the city, stopping the villains, that was their fucking job. Doing nothing was anathema. Just hearing it pissed me off.

I wanted to reject Shirou's words. But I couldn't. Maybe if I was younger. Maybe if I had not watched my teachers turn their backs. Maybe then I could have gone with my gut.

Instead, I believed. What Shirou said made sense. Between the Protectorate, the Wards, and New Wave the heroes had more than a score of capes. Sure, the good guys were outnumbered, but they were _organized_ and _cooperative_. They had all the advantages. Resources. Back up. The local police. The PRT. And, if the villains ever got their act together, Legend, Alexandria, and Eidolon were on tap.

"Fuck," I spat. "They're actually sitting back and letting this shit happen?"

"Reach for the sun and your wings shall melt, sending you deep into the sea," Shirou warned.

"You think they're right?" My voice had a sharp bite to it. "Then what the hell are we doing this for? What's the point if we don't put a stop to garbage like the Merchants?"

Shirou stopped, making me aware that I had done so first. I was angry. Furious. I didn't like this attitude. On some level, I had expected it from the PRT. But from Shirou?

His mission was, quite literally, _to save the fucking world_.

"To be a hero is to dream of utopia. To aim for perfection knowing that you will fall short," Shirou stated. "To save someone means turning your back on another. To overturn corruption means giving birth to chaos. To do good means risking ruin. That is the inescapable reality of this world."

"And how does doing nothing help?" I demanded hotly.

Shirou formed a grim smile. "It does not. But you must never look away from the truth. Stare into its heart, Taylor. Engrave what you see into your soul. Then step forward without regret."

Shirou turned his back and jogged, forcing me to follow.

"The Protectorate uses the word 'hero' lightly. They have forgotten what it means," Shirou continued. "They hesitate, trying to guard the world that is. In doing so, they neglect the world that could be. But their weakness is our boon. The gangs have grown sloppy and arrogant. They boldly swagger in the sun when they should skitter in the shadows."

Shirou's lips formed a nasty smile. His visage was hungry, like a wolf that smelled prey. "We will rip them out by the root."

My eyes widened. Shirou's plan suddenly clicked in my head. It was simple and bold. An ordinary hero would identify a Merchant stronghold then strike. A villain might learn the same then hold that information in reserve for future punishment. Shirou, however, was not content with that. He didn't want to know the location of _a_ Merchant stronghold. He wanted to know _all of them_.

"You're going to wipe them out in one stroke," I breathed.

Shirou was not merely targeting the Merchants, he was intending to eradicate them.

"Suppressing crime is the duty of the police and government. If it were not at least that much, there would be no point in involving ourselves," Shirou answered firmly.

"How?" I cracked with disbelief. "Can this actually work?"

"Destroy the drug trade? Eliminate the gangs?" Shirou snorted. "Impossible. We could capture gang members all day and not make a dent. Organizations are far from fragile. Decapitating the snake does not cause the body to wither. But if the head, heart, and soul are obliterated in the same moment, the fragments will fade into-"

Shirou held up a hand indicating silence, then gestured toward a nearby alley. I followed him in, body tense. Nervously, I kept my head low while subtly spreading my swarm. Gnats, moths, flies, and other aerial insects moved quietly through the night, marking everyone within my range.

It was amazing how a single conversation had changed my perspective. I knew everything my bugs knew and sensed everything my bugs sensed. It was not a matter of awareness or perspective. It was an unyielding fact of reality.

Finding all the humans? That took a single thought. A mere moment after the notion crossed my mind I was already cognizant of all the people within my range. I did not have to count. I did not have to think. My swarm did it for me. In retrospect, that was no surprise. The bugs, on some level, understood what humans were and they tracked threatening beings as a matter of course.

Marking each person? A touch more difficult, if only because I had to filter my swarm to use only those insects stealthy enough to land on a human being without being noticed. Once my bugs were settled, my awareness was absolute. It required no concentration. The pieces remained firm in my mind. The bugs knew why they were there. Therefore I knew. It was impossible to confuse the result for anything else.

Identifying the Merchants? _That_ was hard. I could relay the order to my swarm, but my insects failed to respond. After Rin's discussion, I knew why. Bugs didn't understand human factions. They could barely comprehend the difference between male, female, adult and child.

Sorting civilian from Merchant demanded a human mind. The good news? My eyes and ears were everywhere. I already knew where everyone was. It was akin to being a security guard in front of a bank of screens, except with each camera perfectly focused on a suspect's face.

The bad? Bugs had terrible senses. I could see just fine, if I were to call a blurry monochrome fine. To improve my acuity, I leaned on an idea that had struck me during my conversation with Rin. I stacked bugs. Different insects had different styles of vision. I layered them up, each eyeball granting new perspective. Once I reached a swarm in the low hundreds the result approximated a shitty camera. Crap, but good enough.

I focused on the outside crowd for now, ignoring the people meandering inside the stores and apartments. Mentally, I checked suspects off the list, flipping figurative bits in my bugs' brains as I went.

Civy. Civy. Civy. Merchant. Civy. ...Merchant?

I tagged the last as uncertain, keeping half an eye on Shirou while I completed my search. The redhead unfolded a broad map of Brockton Bay and spread it on the ground. Red, blue, green, and a single purple dot were drawn atop the streets, a few addended with letters ranging from E to C. Most of the dots were in the North. The Docks. The Trainyard. At least two score in all, with half-a-dozen crossed out with black pen.

The predominate color was red, which lead me to believe that Shirou was using it symbolize Merchant strongholds. That left blue for the E88, green for the ABB, and purple for... Coil? I was not sure about the last. I had read up on the supervillain's gang before going out, but the scope of his territory was unclear.

"I tracked Merchant activity to an abandoned warehouse here," Shirou said, pointing at a block on his map. "The building is two storied, with all the windows on top broken and boarded up. The main doors are steel shutters–"

"Found it," I interrupted. "What do you need me to do?"

Shirou's head snapped up. My heart soared with his surprise. It felt good. Shirou's team was made up of capes older and more experienced than myself. My greatest fear was that I would prove useless and be fired on my first night out.

And, after Emma, I wasn't sure I could handle that kind of rejection.

"What I need to know is the scale of Merchant influence. Is this a supply house, a store front, or a distribution center? How many men are present? How many weapons? How much drugs? I want to know anything and everything that would tell me the scope of the operation."

I nodded and focused.

A scouting force of bugs slipped into the abandoned warehouse, settling on the rafters to view the scene below. The warehouse was a trashed out rat hole, half the space still occupied by rusting remnants left by the prior owner. The rest was a scattering of cheap furniture, discarded beer cans, and assorted garbage.

The Merchants, apparently, did not believe in taking out the trash.

There were five gang members present. The brain fried druggies lazed about on couches, drinking, smoking and otherwise killing time. The only female member of the crew was on her knees, her head nestled between her partner's–

 _Ugh_.

I jerked my vision aside, vomiting a little into my mouth. Swallowing my disgust, I dispersed my bugs, probing for guns and drugs. The warehouse was a landfill. That provided plenty of fodder to fill out my swarm, but served to create an equal number of nooks and crannies to search. Doing it straight up would be time consuming, requiring me to slide my awareness across every square inch of the building.

I decided to cheat.

A cockroach dropped form the ceiling, beating its wings thrice to land on a corner table. No one gave it a glance. The Merchants were drugged out of their minds, high on a toxic mix of meth, heroine, cocaine, and alcohol. Even if they weren't, the warehouse was such a cesspool that they probably would have ignored it anyway.

The black shelled pest skittered forward then sampled the wares.

 _Pain._

Static shrieked inside my brain. Boiling acid rolled over my tongue. An ice pick rammed into my skull, the steel edge rattling amongst the mush. I gripped my head against the sudden agony, my vision flooding with white.

"...ou ...kay?"

Shirou's voiced faded in and out with the sensory fizzle, face stricken by alarm.

"I'm fine," I croaked, trying to wave him off. "Just trying something new."

I gave myself a second to let my vision settle. Then my cockroach tried again, biting down on a second leaf.

Green, chemical flavor rippled though my brain in a shimmering electric current. My vision warped, needles crawling over my skin. I choked on a whiff of feces mixed with gasoline while a banshee screamed in my ears.

I trembled, head throbbing. Nausea crawled up my gullet, bringing a sickness that made it hard to breath. Struggle as I might, my human brain could not make sense of the foreign information.

I grit my teeth and had the roach bite again.

The third bullet hit with a fist of agonizing fire. Blazing heat seared its way through my nervous system, leaving behind a shivering chill.

But this time was different. Deep in the morass of pain, I caught the packet, twisted it, then flung it into my swarm. Smell this. Taste this. Find this. Under the dull ache, my mind came alive. Ephemeral trails lit within my thoughts. Not images. Scents. Notions. Positions.

I could 'see' the marijuana scattered throughout the warehouse. The roiling clouds of noxious smoke rising from an unfinished joint. The leaves scattered upon the table. The traces on the Merchant's clothes. The hints and trails leading to and from the doors.

God was it awesome.

In an instant, I found their stash. Though to say I found it was far from the truth. Find implied that I had searched. I had done no such thing. _I just knew_. The understanding was immediate. One cache, hidden in the wall. A second, stored in the rafters. My bugs surged toward the canvas bags, crawled inside, then explored the interior. There I found bricks of leafy mix, drams of white powder, and loose pills stored in plastic baggies.

Jackpot.

"Five Merchants and two caches of drugs," I relayed. "Either cache would fit in a fanny pack. Not sure about the mix. I recognize the cocaine and marijuana, but the rest..."

I shrugged. Winslow might be a hellhole of a school and filled with up and coming gangbangers, but I had done my best to steer away from that crowd. Prior to today, I had seen a bag of weed a grand total of twice. Truth be told, I knew more about drugs from TV than I did from personal experience.

"A mid-level distributor. They probably sell to street dealers. Peripheral," Shirou dismissed.

Peripheral? I might be a newbie, but a couple of bricks certainly sounded like a fair bit of product. "Wouldn't taking out a distribution center hurt?"

Shirou shook his head. "The Merchants have between two-to-three hundred people on their payroll. Based on scale alone, I judge their annual revenue to be around ten-million a year. From the amount of drugs you described, I would guess a street value between five and thirty grand, depending on the mix. Even accounting for lost sales–"

"That is only a fraction of a percent," I finished. I grimaced, my shoulders sinking. "This one is a miss then."

"Yes. But, before we go, did you get a read on the number of armaments?"

I shook my head. "Give me another minute."

The Merchants inside had an assortment of weapons scattered across the room. A knife on the table. A second sheathed at a gangbanger's side. An aluminum bat leaned against the far wall, set beside an axe crusted with blood. My short search turned up a single gun, a nine-millimeter pistol tucked into the waist band of a drunken thug in a manner I was certain violated every firearm safety protocol ever written.

I was not confident my previous trick would work on guns. In the movies, powder residue got on everything, but I could already tell it was not half as pungent as marijuana. Nevertheless, I maneuvered a pair of flies into the weapon's barrel.

Learning my second scent was marginally less painful than the first. Static knives clawed through my mind while my senses throbbed with pain. The repeated tastes left me with a horrible migraine, undertoned by a hint of nausea. The gun lit in my awareness. But this time there was no great epiphany. My bugs picked up the firearm _better_ but it was far from perfect.

Fortunately, I only needed good enough.

Insects fundamentally lacked the concept of _gun_. What they did understand was the smell of powder. Using that sense, I outsourced my efforts. My swarm descended in waves, sweeping the warehouse with a grid pattern search. The investigation took a handful of minutes, mostly because I was trying to avoid attention.

"Two pistols and an assortment of bladed weapons," I finally answered.

Shirou nodded and scrawled a red 'D' next to the dot on his map. Refolding the paper, he stood.

We moved on.

Walking away from a Merchant base left a bad taste in my mouth. I wanted to do something. To smash in the face of the gangs. To let them know they were no longer welcome in Brockton Bay. But I understood the plan. More, I understood the why of the plan.

Eliminating the gangs would not be easy.

Before today, I had never appreciated how difficult that task was. If the PRT hit a cache like this once a week? The Merchants would hardly feel it. Now split those resources between three gangs. Bigger gangs. Suddenly the PRT and Protectorate were but drops of water in a bucket.

It was disheartening, but this was not the kind of work capes were meant for. Miss Militia, Velocity, Assault, Battery, none of them had powers conducive to investigation. Armsmaster could probably tinker a device to help him do it, but one man did not a team make.

This was police work, not cape work.

Unfortunately, two decades of recession and a dozen budget cuts had gutted the local force. Throw in supervillains, banged up cops, and smashed precincts and the thin blue line started looking awfully thin. The cops who had stuck it out were either too old or too cowardly to walk the streets.

… and that was ignoring all the cops on the take. Given how shitty the city had become, I was willing to bet a hundred bucks that was half of them.

And it showed.

The gangs were too bold. They walked the darkened roads as though they owned them. In this environment, finding a gangster did not require parahuman powers. All it needed was a pair of eyes.

But even if the PRT and the police stepped up their game, what would be the point? If the Merchants came under siege they would slink back into the shadows. Hitting street dealers would not do a damn thing. The Merchants did not lack for manpower. For every gangster put in the slammer, there were a dozen addicts begging for a chance to be put on the payroll.

Reality was incredibly depressing.

"How did you find all those locations?" I asked, wanting to think about something more positive.

"Rin placed a bounded field around the city that detects congregations of malice and power," Shirou explained. "Using those locations as a starting point, I–"

"Wait," I interrupted, incredulous. "You're telling me that you can find every cape in the city?"

Shirou shook his head. "No. The bounded field only senses places where power and malice have settled. Homes. Businesses. Areas where criminals or parahumans operate for extended times. Even then, the field is only accurate to a kilometer or two."

I let out a breath of relief. The idea that Shirou's team could find any cape anywhere was horrifying. But if the mechanism was as limited as Shirou suggested, it only narrowed the search to several thousand persons.

Then a terrible thought struck me. Had Shirou stopped by Winslow? It would be logical to do so. I had been a cape for months, so he couldn't have missed the school as part of his search. I shuddered. Please no. If Shirou had seen me at my worst...

My gut roiled. My throbbing migraine did little to help matters.

"As I was saying, I started by examining locations with a strong prana-criminal overlap," Shirou resumed after I fell into silence. "The remainder was legwork. I shadowed Merchant affiliates and kept a record of their associates and their places of business. Then I used Rin's familiars to stake out the most promising locations."

Shirou's expression, shifted, becoming a bit disgruntled. "The hard part has been trimming away the false positives. Homes. Hangouts. Meeting points."

"And that is where I come in," I said, nodding in understanding. "Does your team normally operate like this?"

Shirou's lips quirked.

"Enforcer missions are eighty-percent investigation, twenty-percent waiting, and a single instant of combat," Shirou answered. "Few of our enemies make themselves apparent when they know they are being hunted."

The redhead cast steel eyes about an empty road before crossing. I studied the man as I jogged beside him. Skilled. Serious. Professional. Despite the streaks of white running through the redhead's hair, he looked young. Young but mature. Five, maybe ten years older than myself.

If Earth Tav was anything like Earth Bet, Shirou would be a member of the Protectorate. I had a hard time believing it. Maybe it was all the PR, but Shirou seemed harder than them. More refined. Not to say anything bad about Armsmaster or Miss Militia. Those two were badass. SWAT to the ordinary 'officers' in the Protectorate. But Shirou? Shirou felt like SEAL Team Six.

"Enforcers. I take it that is the name of your unit in the...," I struggled to remember, "Mage's Association?"

"No. The Sealing Designation Enforcers are a paramilitary organization created by the Mage's Association," Shirou explained. "The Enforcers serve as the Association's policing, investigation, and suppression force. The official name for our _team_ is Enforcer Unit 09."

Shirou paused, then smirked with amusement. "You can call us E09 for short."

I gave the man a sour look, for once grateful for my lack of mask. E09. Forget the bureaucratic blandness, that name would be butchered and conflated with the E88 in an instant.

"You aren't expecting me to take orders from the Mage's Association, are you?"

Suddenly, I was feeling nervous. Shirou, Rin, and Saber I could work with. They were people. A team. I was fine with that. A foreign government? That smelled too much like treason.

"The Enforcers do not take orders. Our relationship with the Mage's Association is more complicated than that. We are bound by a code of conduct, but our squad leader is free to choose or refuse missions at will. In essence, we are mercenaries within the Association's employ."

Shirou slowed to a stop.

We were in the midst of the rotting remnants of an old neighborhood. Train tracks ran nearby, passing uncomfortably close to the tiny, boarded up houses. Even before the downturn, this place had been a shit hole. Now it was a seedy underbelly of hopelessness and criminality.

I queried my swarm. A dozen around and about, three of which were passed out in the streets. Four potential Merchants. I tagged them all.

My gaze shifted to Shirou. "What am I looking for?"

"The blue house on the far end, right up next to the tracks," Shirou said.

"On it."

I formed a host of small fliers and moved them toward the building. The intact, sealed windows gave me a brief pause. Then I effortlessly maneuvered my minions through the air ducts instead.

The house was small. One floor, three rooms, and a basement. Two gang member were inside, their eyes riveted to an ancient CRT television. They were bright eyed and bushy tailed, not a hint of the drugs and alcohol I had seen before.

I flicked a fragment of scent memory toward my bugs and was pleasantly surprised when they reacted. Trails of marijuana were made clear. The smell, though, was dull, faded, giving little sense of origin.

I flew my swarm in a search grid, looking for the source. I traced the path to a heavy metal box in the basement. Steel. Padlocked. Airtight. Whatever was inside demanded some serious security. Judging by size alone, the cache was ten times larger than the ones I found before. But, with the box locked, it was impossible to know what was inside.

With a moment's effort, I switched filters. I made a mental note to practice that in the future. Scents had proved themselves incredibly useful. Better yet, my power seemed to have a repository for learned tricks.

It would be remiss to not refine this gift into greater awareness.

It took a second to find the guns. Guns. Plural. My eyes just about popped out of my head when I realized what I was looking at. The basement was filled with firepower. Assault rifles. Sniper rifles. Side arms. Boxes of ammunition. Boxes of _g_ _renades._ They even had a fucking rocket launcher.

The Merchants were packing _that_ kind of heat? And _they_ were the small timers? Holy shit.

I pulled my mind back, caught in a daze.

"One box, three feet by two. Sealed. But my bugs picked up the scent of drugs coming off it, so I am guessing it's a cache," I said distractedly. "Oh, and they have a fuck load of weapons. Enough to arm at least fifty gang members. And we aren't talking pop guns, either."

"A safe house or armory then. Possibly both," Shirou analyzed. "They probably have enough funds and drugs stored there the restart the gang in case everything goes wrong."

"They are holding out for one hell of a rainy day then," I said. "Never would have thought Skidmark had that kind of foresight."

Shirou marked the house with a 'B', which I took to mean that this was one place we absolutely had to burn to the ground.

"It's a quarter till two," Shirou noted while folding his map. "Do you think you can manage another?"

He was not thinking we were going to stop here, right after finding something like this, was he?

"I'm fine," I retorted, already falling in line. Then it hit me. It was a school night and I was already short on sleep. "One more," I relented. "But next time, bring transport. Hoofing it eats up too many hours and, from what I saw of your map, we have further to go tomorrow."

Shirou nodded. We moved on.

-oOo-

 _Thud. Thud. Thud._

"Time to get up, sleepyhead," my Dad's muffled voice called through the door.

I groaned, wincing at the light pouring through my window. I glanced at the clock. 7:13. Shit.

Yesterday, a mysterious stranger had tucked me into bed and flicked my alarm off. In the confusion of Monday morning, I had forgotten to turn it back on. Normally that would not have been a problem. I routinely woke a few minutes before my alarm started ringing.

Two late nights had taken their toll.

I stumbled sluggishly to my feet. Good thing my Dad had passed by, or I would have missed the first bell at school. I scowled at the clock. As it was, I was going to miss my morning run. The first light of Tuesday had just broke, and already the day was aiming to be miserable.

Which was funny because I _hurt_. My legs ached. My back ached. Even my arms ached. I had put in thrice as many miles pacing Shirou as I did on a typical run and at a faster pace to boot. If there was ever a day where I had earned the right to sleep in, today was it.

But I loved my morning run.

In the night, the city was silent. Still. Stifled. It was as though rope had been wrapped around its neck and pulled taut until the city choked. A palpable fear hung in the air, clinging to buildings, streets, and people. In the darkness, Brockton Bay crumbled.

Night belonged to the gangs.

Mornings were different. The air was cool, crisp, and fresh. The sun rose, burning away the shadows. The city woke, stirring with renewed life. A moment of rebirth. A brief, innocent instant unfathomable to those who lived within this city.

When the city stirred, blinking its bleary eyes, I saw Brockton Bay as it should be. A city of hope.

I liked that.

As I moved around the house, the last embers of dream evanesced leaving behind a growing sense of dread. Yesterday had been a whirl. I met the Undersiders. I learned about Earth Tav and Type-D. I joined Unit 09. I patrolled with Shirou. … Technically, I fought Lung. I hardly had time to think.

Now, though, I remembered Emma, the fruit soda, and my ruined art project. Yesterday's absence would make everything worse. The girls would spin it as me running away. Even imagining the taunts hurt, in part because they hit true. I _was_ running away. I had always seen myself as a strong person, but the sheer _persistence_ of Madison, Sophia, and Emma got under my skin.

It was too much to endure.

Especially when I was left waiting for the big one.

The next locker.

And I had little doubt it would come. The girls escalated. That was what they did. Always one step more severe. Testing their limits. And Winslow? Winslow refused to acknowledge that it was happening. The teachers turned their backs, pretending not to see or hear. So the cycle would continue until it reached a point that could not be ignored.

Then, just like before, it would start over again.

Never ending. Never ceasing. Always growing worse.

Facing that today was harder than ever. My feet dragged. My shower ran long. I moved slothfully, as though trying to run the clock. Stupid. I knew I shouldn't do this. I had to go to school. I pictured my Dad, disappointed eyes peering over the rims of his glasses.

It didn't help.

It was not until I was out the door, paralyzed on the front porch, that I grasped why it was so hard to go back. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I had something I wanted to do. Going out with Shirou? _That_ had meaning. I had learned so much in one patrol. How the enemy worked. How to see their weak points. How to destroy them.

It had been quieter than my solo run. But, after I got home and curled up in bed, I had felt as though my patrol with Shirou was more important. I could _do_ something now. Yeah, my first time out I had helped to take down Lung. But that had been more luck than skill. Last night? That was _my_ strength. _My_ ability. I could repeat what I did there. I could make the gangs bleed.

In light of that, going to school seemed so pointless. Why did I have face the terrible trio? Why should I endure shitty teachers who only pretended to care? I knew the answer of course. A poor education was better than no education. My Mom had been a college professor. Failing was too close to betrayal.

I was frozen. Stilled by gut wrenching emotion. I had lost the will to move forward. I couldn't take the next step. Not anymore.

I blinked and realized I was brushing away tears.

Pitiful Taylor. I sneered, hearing Sophia's scorn echoing in my ears. Was I going to let them win?

"Dammit." My attempt at an angered curse came out as a whimper.

I hated this. I hated school. I hated myself for being weak, for wanting to run away. And I hated it all the more when I turned around, went inside, and stuffed my costume into my backpack.

I knew what I was doing was foolish. Skipping today would only make it harder to go tomorrow. Part of me suspected that Rin would not be happy with me either.

I did it anyway.

I felt awkward, standing in a public bus, backpack slung over my shoulder. My head was held low. I could feel the eyes of the passengers on me. The unspoken questions. The tacit condemnation. I bore it with silent nausea, then fled when I reached the outskirts of Oak Hill.

When I hit the rugged asphalt, I ran. My breath thudded out in rhythm with my step. Each exhalation expelled my worry. This was my team, and I had showed my worth. Rin and the others would not turn me away. Moving helped. The sound of my feet pounding against the earth was meditative.

I put myself into the zone, jogging up the winding roads. I was fifteen minutes in when I realized I was surrounded by the unknown. I stopped and tried to recall the location of the estate. I remembered the hill, the gate, the driveway, and the mansion itself, but everything else was a blank. I cursed myself for not paying attention during Saber's drive.

Fuck it. I reached out and took control of the insects, sinking into their perceptions. My sphere of influence was two blocks, large enough to canvas half the neighborhood. I found the house in an instant. Or, more accurately, I found the eerie emptiness Unit 09 called home.

It took two minutes to reach it.

I was shocked I missed it. The mansion was exactly as I remembered. Victorian era, beautifully restored and made brilliant by fresh paint. I admired the sight with envy. Either Rin was filthy rich, or she had the world's greatest handyman on speed dial.

I hit the buzzer built into the brick wall. No answer. I tried again. Silence. I glanced down the road I had taken. Homeroom would have started by now. No sense going back. I grabbed the top of the wrought iron gate and vaulted over.

Crossing the wall was like being struck by lightning.

I hit the ground in a stumble. My awareness fluttered, bugs flickering in and out of sight. My vision warped and the world wobbled leaving me dizzy and sick. Knowing it was coming helped. A lot.

Nothing prepared me for what came next.

 _Terror_.

Frost pierced my bones. I trembled, choking on a sudden sense of dread. This was not the fear of Winslow. Nor was it the nightmare of the locker. This was the heart stopping mortal _horror_ I had felt while I hung in midair after Lung shattered my ribs.

 _I didn't belong_. _I had to leave. Now._

My frame quivered. I wanted to run, to hide, to scurry deep into the dark. Raw, animal panic consumed me. I crouched, my mind scattered in a hundred directions. Breath seared my throat, flowing in and out so fast that I felt faint.

Wait. Why was I afraid?

I gulped, the stray thought a handhold in a stormy sea. That's right. Why the hell was I afraid? It made no sense. I had a right to be here. I had been invited.

Calm cooled my panic, but the deep, unyielding dread remained. I shook my head and stepped forward.

 _Run. Flee. You are hunted._

I flinched back. My hands trembled. This... this was a bad idea. I knew it in my bones.

I was not one for superstition. Humans lacked a magical ability to sense higher truth. The notion was nonsense – the wishful indulgence of the irrational who sought to deny the iron shackles of fact. Sure, capes with special sensory powers existed.

I was not one of them.

At least that was what I told myself. Then I took control of the local swarm, sending fliers forward to scout.

Just to be sure.

 _P-p-p-pop!_ Bugs exploded into crackling pyres. Burning wings and chitin rained down in flaming sparks. My scouting swarm was obliterated in an instant.

The air froze in my lungs. My soul quivered.

 _You will die_.

I twisted, throwing my backpack to the ground. I tore open the zipper with an animal frenzy, ripping through the contents until I found the wooden necklace Rin gave me. Blessed relief. No sooner did I touch the icon than did the impending doom vanish.

I let out shaky breath then stood.

"Rin, you need to explain these things a little more fucking clearly," I cursed under my breath.

What the hell would she do if the mailman dropped a package at the house?

Wait. Scratch that. Could he even find the house? Suddenly, my prior trials were suspicious. Had I been suffering from a fogged up memory, or was the entire mansion hidden beneath a Stranger field?

Nerves rattled, I touched my powers. No reaction. My tension declined slightly. Bravely, I pulled bugs through the invisible wall guarding the grounds. The lack of opposition was creepy. Whatever system Rin was using had to have some form of intelligence. Somehow, that mind now knew my minions were now allowed. More frightening, it understood the difference between insects under my control and insects used to scout.

I was less than confident it considered me a friend.

Spreading my swarm, I took a moment to appreciate how big Unit 09's base really was. The main house was huge, having thrice the square footage of my own home. The building loomed two stories above, with a conical attic reaching up higher like the spire of a castle.

Almost as impressive were the outlying buildings. The detached garage stood next to the house, separated by an awning and ten foot walkway. Further out was a second, squat building – plain, yet beautiful with its distinctive Asian architecture.

If not for my horde, I would have missed the third. A toolshed. Except it was less a shed and more a bunker. The solid, concrete structure merged seamlessly into an outcropping of rock. Robust, with unknown depths and tough enough to laugh off an air-strike.

It was a gapping void for my insects.

I wisely kept my swarm well away.

Approaching the main house, I pulled bugs from the broader neighborhood and deposited them around the yard. Rin's bounded field had decimated the local population and I wanted to put the ecosystem back into balance. Maybe a little extra, actually, since I might need to siphon some when heading out for an attack.

Soft _clacks_ and _clatters_ drew my attention from the front door and toward the Asian building. Curious, I veered in its direction. The sounds grew louder, rising into a cacophonous roar.

I slid open the door.

It was a dojo. Smooth, stained wood formed the floor while white, clean panels composed the walls. Glass windows were set high, near the dojo's roof, flooding the room with rivers of sunlight. Seated near the dojo's wall was Saber, matte black rifle at her side. The blonde was an icon of serenity. An unmoved statue in mediative rest.

The rest of the room was a tempest.

 _Crack!_

Rin's bamboo staff crashed against Shirou's practice sword, sliding along the blade before being shoved aside. A second sword flashed upward. Rin's staff slashed to the right, deflecting the blow before thrusting forward like a spear.

Shirou leaned, bamboo kissing his left cheek. His swords retorted in a blur.

 _C-crack! Crack!_

Fast. Impossibly fast. Blows were traded at speeds that left me dizzy. The dojo rattled with the force.

It was hard to describe how quick a martial artist could be. Masters threw flurries of fists at a rate of three or more per a second. Skilled fighters could dodge or block the same. Once I had seen video of Muhammad Ali, famed as the greatest boxer of all time, evading twenty-one punches in a mere ten seconds.

And he was not a cape.

Shirou and Rin? They made him look slow.

The two were caged lightning, a thunderous force captured within the dojo's walls. Bamboo blades met with the rat-tat-tat of machine guns. Each blow was a kick to the gut. Ten feet away, I could literally feel the shock waves they unleashed.

The short exchange ended when Shirou danced back, his weapons flying from his hands in twirling disks. Rin jumped over the first, her staff rising to smash the second aside. _Crack!_ The sword deflected into the dojo wall with an ear shattering roar.

That short separation was all Shirou needed.

In a single second, Shirou formed a score a bamboo swords. The weapons hung in mid air, haloing the redhead with death. Then they shot forward, arrows fired from a canon. The dark haired girl span, her staff a whirlwind that slapped the weapons from the sky. A second wave descended. In the brief respite, Rin swept an illuminated arm in an arc in front of her.

" _Mauer."_

A wall of stone burst through the floorboards. Bamboo splintered upon hardened the earth then dissolved into evanescent light. Hidden behind her cover, Rin raised her green glowing limb and let loose a gatling of gandr toward the rafters.

The projectiles refracted, Legend style, to rain down on Shirou in a wave of destruction.

Shirou did not so much as blink. He flowed around the assault, an untouchable leaf fluttering in the wind. The barrage tore the dojo apart around him. Wood snapped. Walls cracked. A shower of splinters filled the air. Nothing reached the redhead. A pair of bamboo swords formed near Shirou's head, their bodies criss-crossed by lines of light. As one, they were sent rocketing forward.

 _Bang!_

The swords crashed into the rock wall like a pair of thunderbolts. Granite shattered into shrapnel. I flinched back, a stray bit slicing along my arm. The bamboo blades punched clear through stone, hardly slowed, then plowed deep into the dojo wall opposite.

Rin was already gone.

In an instant, the brunette was coiled in the crook between wall and ceiling. Her feet were planted, her spear extended. Rin's form exploded with incredible force.

 _CRACK!_

Weapons clashed in a thunderous blast. Bamboo splintered. Wooden fragments rained. The redhead stumbled back. It took a belated second to realize what had happened. Rin had cast her spear, the velocity of the projectile so great that it had vanished from my eyes.

She jolted forward. Rin sprang across open air, sending a burst of darkness down upon Shirou. The redhead formed a new pair of swords and flicked them in answer, obliterating a quartet of black bullets with two quick strokes.

A dozen weapons appeared at Shirou's flank. As one, they fired.

" _Sturm."_

A burst of wind sent the bamboo swords flying in every direction. All but one. The lone blade flashed up undeterred. Rin's eyes widened. Then she twisted in mid-air, narrowly evading the strike. She hit the ground in a half-crouch half-stumble near Shirou's feet. Green light encircled her right leg. Rin lashed out with a heavy round house. Shirou deflected the blow, rolling with the force while his second sword rose to gut the dark haired woman.

Only for him to suddenly step back.

Blue paint splattered on Rin's gi. Two more bullets splashed on the dojo wall, passing through Shirou's afterimage. Saber was on her feet, rifle held at ready.

"Rin," Saber barked in harsh rebuke. "Your attention drifts too far in battle. Have care for your surroundings."

Rin's shoulders quivered in frustration. "It's a little difficult when everything is exploding all around me."

Saber was unrelenting. "Do you believe our enemies will ignore your weakness?"

Rin twitched. For a second I thought she would snap. Instead, she angrily snatched a towel off its rack. The brunette smothered her face in the fluffy white cloth. After drying her sweat, Rin turned toward Shirou.

"Another round?"

Shirou nudged his head in my direction. "We have a guest."

"Eh?" Rin noised. She glanced back, noticing me for the first time. Her bright, blue eyes widened. "Taylor? What are you doing here?"

I shifted uncomfortably. If I had joined the Undersiders instead of Unit 09, no one would care if I skipped school. Unfortunately, Rin and the others were adults. They had an uprightness to them that the villain team lacked.

I doubted they would be half as accepting.

"I thought I would stop by," I said apprehensively.

I stepped forward, entering the dojo proper.

"Stop," Rin ordered at once. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "This is a Japanese building. Shoes off."

"Uh..."

I looked around. Pulverized floor boards. Stone splinters. Scattered debris. A cross beam hung loose from the ceiling, still vibrating from the forces unleashed before. Yeah. There was no way in hell I was walking on _that_ while only wearing socks.

"Rin, you may wish to clean up first," Shirou interrupted. His tone was polite, but the quirk of his lips revealed hidden humor.

Rin blinked, then looked back. "Oh. That." Her eyes darkened with shared amusement. " _Minuten vor Schweißen."_

The room picked itself up. Wooden fragments skittered across the ground, puzzle pieces seeking their homes. Cracks welded themselves into place, forming seamless surfaces. Sunken walls popped out, eliciting deep groans as the building righted itself. In mere seconds, the damaged room was restored to a gleaming pristineness.

On its own, that was nothing special. Cape powers were wide and varied. Though I had seen few, I had heard of enough growing up on Earth Bet that a repair power was unsurprising.

That Rin could use it was.

Parahumans Online had an informal rule called the Eidolon limit. Capes got three major powers or five minor ones and no more. It wasn't an accepted scientific principle, like the Manton Effect, but rather a loose correlation identified by cape geeks. Capes that broke that limit were rare. As in, countable on two hands rare.

Rin was at minimum a Brute, Blaster, Shaker, and Stranger. She was possibly a Mover, if her inhuman speed was sufficient to count, and maybe a Master or healer of some sort. What was more, her powers were divergent in nature with no uniting theme. No matter how I looked at it, Rin was far too versatile to be an ordinary cape.

Then again, Rin had never claimed to ordinary, much less a cape, now had she?

Sitting down, I removed my shoes.

Rin nodded with satisfaction. "Now then, I believe you were going to explain why you are here?"

I grimaced. Lying would be bad. Forget the long term social consequences, Rin probably had a lie detecting power and Shirou had strongly implied he could cold read. But, unless I wanted Unit 09's pity, the truth was a no go. That left me with the awkward task of putting things in the best light.

Which, given my socially savvy, was definitely impossible.

Best be blunt, then.

"I want to help," I said simply, "whether that means hunting Merchant bases or assisting with the search for Type-D."

Rin set a hand on her hip, her eyes dangerously narrow. "You're skipping school."

She wasn't asking a question and I didn't give an answer. Instead I stared at Rin, defiant.

Rin held my gaze for a long moment then released an exasperated sigh. The brunette adopted a lecture pose.

"Taylor, let me be clear on this. A good education is necessary to function in this world. You are a bright girl, so I know you know this. Skipping school is hurting yourself. What is more, it hurts your team," she admonished.

Rin gave me a stern glare, then continued without pause.

"A broad base of knowledge is required for both scientific and criminal inquiry. These are highly refined professions, Taylor. It is not sufficient to fight. You need to be able to recognize when something or someone is out of place, then ask the right questions to learn what is wrong. Otherwise you'll never find an appropriate solution."

"I know that," I said, channeling my growing frustration.

I agreed with Rin on all counts. My education was important. I didn't merely _know_ it, I whole heartedly _believed_ it.

Yeah, I was planning on living as a cape. That was my dream. But being a hero, a _good_ hero, took skill. Any illusion otherwise had been crushed on by my patrol. Combat. Tactics. Investigation. Economics. Politics. Tearing apart the underworld required knowledge in all of those categories and more beside. Sure, a cape could get away with a tactic like 'beat the thug'. In fact, most capes did exactly that. But if I wanted my actions to have _meaning_ , I would need to learn how to beat the _right_ thug in the _right_ place at the _right_ time.

And doing _that_ required a hell of a lot of head work.

"I don't believe you do," Rin retorted bluntly. "I have no use for a dropout, so as your squad leader I am ordering you to attend class. If you refuse, I will be forced to ask for your resignation."

My throat caught. Nausea rose in my gut. I had suspected this would happen, but I had hoped...

I looked away, lowering my head to hide my weakness. "I under–"

"Rin," Saber interrupted. The short blonde set a hand on the dark haired woman's shoulder. "It is clear to me that this is a matter of great trauma."

I winced. Rin stilled, her lips pressed into a tight frown. She studied Saber. After a moment, Rin stepped to the side, letting Saber take the fore.

I shifted anxiously under the blonde's gaze. Hers was the stern visage of judgment. Authoritative yet unthreatening. The presence Saber exuded made me uncomfortable. Winslow had destroyed my faith in authority. I placed no credence in it.

But there was something about Saber that made me want to believe.

"If I am to understand, the issue at hand is not your desire to learn but rather the act of attending the institute itself?" Saber asked.

I nodded, unwilling to trust my voice.

Saber nodded gravely. "I see. And I assume that this is not an issue in which you wish we involve ourselves?"

Unit 09 versus Sophia, Emma, and Madison? I contemplated the image then choked. No. Just no. Not only would I have explain how I had been bullied, there was no imaginable result where my problems got anything but worse.

 _You will die_.

Much worse.

I shuddered. I was going to keep my team far away from that mess.

Saber nodded again, reading my answer from the silence. "Then the resolution is clear. From this day forth, I shall personally oversee your education."

"Wha-?"

"Eh?"

Rin and I raised our voices at the same time, both staring at Saber in shock. The blond held a hand over her chest, conveying a particularly proud smugness.

"This is the most efficient solution. By holding Taylor within our abode, we simplify our logistical chain. In an emergency she can be quickly dispatched, while her education can be adapted to her role as a member of our unit. Further, my talents are currently being wasted. I have neither the ability to assist in your thaumaturgical research, nor are my skills suited for... _skulking_ ," Saber said, her lips twisting with distaste at the final word.

I reeled, trying to process the flow of information. "Wait, can you actually teach?"

"I am an experienced instructor," Saber retorted, sounding miffed. "And, as part of my summoning, the grail granted me full knowledge of this era. As such, I believe that I am more than sufficient for the task."

"Saber," Rin said, not at all impressed. "You're doing this to get out of housework, aren't you?"

"I believe I have explained my reasoning quite well," Saber answered stiffly.

I shook my head, a light smile playing upon my lips. It was nice that Saber would go that far, but her plan would never work.

"Thanks, but my Dad would never agree to that."

"Danny?" Rin asked, flipping her hair. "Not a problem. Do you want to call him? Or should I?"

"What?" I sputtered, struggling to comprehend. "Wait. You don't mean right now, do you?"

"It is better to take care of these things immediately, Taylor," Rin lectured. She tilted her head then nodded resolutely. "It'll probably be better if I call. Saber, I leave Taylor in your care."

Towel still over her shoulders, Rin walked out of the room. I gaped at the girl, so flabbergasted that I was unable to find words. She was going to call my Dad? How the hell was she going to explain things? Wait. When did she get his contact information in the first place? Don't tell me she collected his home and work number as a matter of course...

Dizzily, I turned back toward Saber.

"Is Rin always like that?" I asked.

"Rin only spares politeness for strangers and acquaintances. When dealing with her allies, she can be overbearing at times," Saber answered. "That she speaks to you in such a manner is a sign of regard. Do not be deterred. If you find her demands unacceptable, simply state so forthwith. If your cause is just, it shall be heard."

And if my cause is not, she will not hear it at all.

I scowled at hidden subtext, then schooled myself. People came with issues. I certainly had mine. It was idiotic to think my team had none. Besides, for all that Rin's pushiness was irritating, I was not complaining about the result.

Better to focus on other things for now.

"What's the plan?" I asked.

I studied the girl. Saber appeared frail and petite, belying her Brute classed strength. Serene and serious in contradiction to her youth. Martial and manly despite her preference for skirts. Saber was a study of contrasts, and the member of Unit 09 whose personality I understood best despite how we rarely talked.

For all her solemn nature, Saber is a hard girl to ignore. She exuded presence in a way that Emma could only dream of.

The short, blonde haired girl gave me a long, judging look in return. "It is my intent to ascertain your skill at arms. Once acquainted, I shall develop a regime suitable for your level of ability."

"Sounds good to me," I said in response.

I unslung my backpack then dropped the beaten canvas near the dojo's wall. Stepping out on the floor, I tested my traction. Slick. If I fought on this I would end up on my ass.

"It would be most wise to remove your socks," Saber recommended.

"Ah," I noised, looking down at my feet. I flushed and quickly removed the garments. I tested the ground again. Much better.

Saber drew a bamboo sword from the weapon rack. I cringed at the sight.

"You're not thinking we are going to fight, are you?" I said, nervously. "Because I can tell you right now, my knowledge is limited to _'don't tuck your thumb into your fist when throwing a punch'_ and that's about it."

"Humility is prudent," Saber acknowledged. "Do you have a preference of arms?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. Then I stopped myself. "Wait."

Bending down, I fished Shirou's dagger-baton from my backpack. The steel bludgeon was light and I liked the play. It felt right in my hands. Dangerous but safe. A weapon I could use to bring the hurt without worrying that I would kill anyone outright.

"Will this work?" I asked.

Saber took the baton and scrutinized every inch.

"The heft is lacking, but sufficient. Suitable for subduing an enemy, but incapable of landing a telling blow. If this is to be your primary weapon, I would recommend a side arm. A short, bladed instrument such as a dagger or knife would suffice," Saber said, returning the baton.

I took the weapon, felt the weight, and grasped what Saber meant. The baton was heavy enough to hurt. If I put enough _umph_ into it, I might even break a bone or two. But if I really needed to take someone down, I would be neck deep in trouble. I had asked Shirou to make my baton safe, and he had delivered. No deadly points. No sharp edges. No way to hurt my opponent so severely that they had to back off.

If I encountered a gangbanger wielding a baton, I would tank the first hit and tackle them to the ground.

I contemplated my left hand, imaging the heft of a second weapon. A naked blade. A way to gut anyone stupid enough to try the tactic I just thought up. I was uncomfortable with the idea. I had enough difficulty dialing my power into the narrow band between annoying and deadly.

But it would be stupider to need the option and not have it. If nothing more, a knife would have been nice when I was facing Lung. It wouldn't have done me any good. But it would have been nice.

I nodded. "Do you think Shirou can get me a decent dagger, or should I try and buy one for myself?"

"Shirou provides blades of the highest quality, but by their very nature they are uncertain," Saber answered. "For this purpose, I suggest you procure your own."

Uncertain? What did Saber mean by that? Were they fragile or something? I dismissed the train of thought. If I started pestering Saber about my team, we would never get anywhere.

"I will buy one then," I said, taking her advice.

"Very well, then I shall divide your instruction amongst the one-handed blade, the knife, and unarmed combat," Saber decided. The blonde pulled another bamboo sword from the rack and tossed it to me. "Though the length of this weapon exceeds that of your primary arm, the principles remain the same. As such, it will serve our needs."

Gripping the hilt, I gave the sword a wave. Heavy. Not in the mass of the weapon itself, but rather the momentum it gathered as I swung. I adjusted my hand and slashed it through the air a second time. Yeah. I could get used to this.

I gave a shy smile. "So, stances and swings then?"

"No. Such methods are best suited for refining your ability," Saber countered. The blonde girl shifted her stance, legs spreading, weapon held to the fore. "At this point, it is most efficient to learn through experience. You are fortunate as thaumaturgy shall serve to abate thine wounds."

A chill swept down my spine. She wasn't planning to... I held up my sword fearfully. "Saber, you-"

"Steel thy heart, Taylor, and seek naught but to defend," Saber commanded. "For this, I shall reduce my speed so as not to overwhelm, but nevertheless it shall require all that you have to stay my blade."

My eyes widened. Saber moved.

There was no warning. In a blink, Saber was in front of me. Her sword cut wide, slashing through the air with a reverberating hum. _Crack!_ Thunder sounded in my ears. My right hand went numb. The bamboo blade flew from my grip, tumbling end over end.

I gazed at it for one, impossible moment, wondering by what means it had met Saber's blade.

 _Thud._

Air exploded from my lungs. Pain overwhelmed all sense. My body crumbled. I hit the ground like a rock, barely catching myself with my left hand. I gasped, eyes watering.

Saber loomed over me, a tiny titan with overwhelming power.

"Your first lesson: you must hold your blade firm lest it fly from your hand. The strength should be such that the hilt does not slide, and no more."

"The fuck," I spat between breaths. My diaphragm quivered, making me choke. "What the hell kind of lesson is that?"

"One you will not forget," was Saber's merciless retort. "A warrior bears pain in peace so that she may know victory in war. Now, take your weapon and rise, or have I misjudged your mettle?"

Cold green eyes looked down upon me. Imperious. Saber's stance. Her haughty arrogance. It was like Sophia all over again. Except, with Saber, the hint of disappointment was ten times worse than Sophia's scorn. It made my blood boil. Misjudged me? Fuck that.

Blinking back tears, I reclaimed my sword and climbed angrily to my feet.

"Your heart has courage," Saber acknowledged. "Now loosen thy hand. A grip too strong will lead you to folly as readily as a hold too light."

I looked down. I gripped the hilt of my sword with white knuckles. I forced my fingers to relax. Tight but loose. How the hell was I supposed to know what that meant?

Fortunately, Saber did.

"Tighter. Good. Now ready yourself."

 _Crack! Thud_. My failure echoed through the dojo, my second lesson no less painful than the first.

-oOo-

 ** _Dossier –_ _Saber –_ _Enforcer Unit 09_**

 _Subject is designated: Friendly. Unauthorized confrontation will be punished per the rules described in Enforcer Codex Section 36-B._

 _Subject is an EX class threat. DO NOT ENGAGE. If combat becomes necessary, multiple Enforcer teams should be deployed after a full briefing._

 _Threat Assessment [EX]  
Strength: A  
Endurance: B  
Agility: B  
Mana: A  
Luck: A+  
N. Phantasm: ?  
* Listed attributes are Servant Class_

 _Saber is a Servant [Holy Grail War, The; Counter Guardians, The] whose real identity remains shrouded in mystery. She is a supremely skilled warrior possessing strength, speed, and durability vastly exceeding human limits. Direct engagement should be avoided if at all possible. Further, as a Servant of the class 'Saber', she has extraordinary magical resistance, capable of nullifying A rank mysteries [Milan, December 7th, 2009]. As such, specialized weapons will be required for any confrontation._

 _The nature of the Saber's noble phantasm remains hidden. It has been revealed once [Cartagena, Jan 17th, 2010]. By examining the affected area, the weapon was deduced to be of an Anti-Fortress nature. Additional detail is lacking as Unit 09 and the Church's Executors have refused to provided further information._

 _Be advised, should conflict be mandated, standard doctrine strongly recommends the elimination of the master – Rin Tohsaka [Dossier – Rin Tohsaka – Enforcer Unit 09] – rather than direct confrontation with the Servant itself._

 _Subject Background:  
_ _Saber was summoned by Rin Tohsaka [Disputed] during the Fifth Grail War and somehow survived the war's ending, an occurrence previously believed impossible. Saber has remained at her master's side since._

 _Saber moved to London with Rin Tohsaka on May 31st, 2005. After a brief period of inactivity, Saber enrolled in eclectic courses at the City of Westminster College along with a handful of classes within the Clock Tower. Her thaumaturgic studies were largely directed toward academics, specifically thaumaturgic history and theory._

 _During her studies, Saber took a single class involving thaumaturgic application – The Integration of Runes with Modern Mechanics. Her talent with prana manipulation drew immediate interest from her professor, who went so far as to offer a formal letter of introduction. In prompt response, Saber withdrew from the Clock Tower. No further overtures have been made._

 _Saber joined the Enforcers July 7th, 2008 then Enforcer Unit 09 with much of her basic training waived. Her record as an Enforcer remains impeccable, with twenty-three dead apostles hunts completed in her first year alone. Saber was instrumental in the successful disposal of the Twenty-sixth Dead Apostle Ancestor – Itet._


	4. Chapter 4

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 4**  
-oOo-

It was a quarter past eleven when I limped into the main house. I ached. My clothes clung to sweat soaked skin. My bones were bruised and my muscles leadened weights. If I held any prior faith in my combat ability, Saber had crushed it thoroughly.

Which made it weird as hell that I was smiling.

The clash. The thumps. The roar of adrenaline. I felt alive. Years of aggression had been released in a moment of unrelenting brutality. I was surprised how much I enjoyed the one sided fight. But, perhaps, fighting was the key. Standing up. Hitting back. Confronting my foe with force rather than cringing away as I had with Sophia.

Or maybe Saber was just that skilled a teacher. Serene yet savage. Ruthless but forgiving. Patient and intense. Saber was unyielding. With merciless strokes, she tore open my weakness. Then, while I gasped on the floor, she calmly explained my mistakes. Her methods were utterly unpleasant, but they worked. I could feel them work. Three hours getting my ass handed to me and I was already a better fighter than when I started.

The elation was incredible. It was almost unfair. Saber was too good to be teaching a two-bit wannabe like me. I could almost hear a thousand superheroes crying out at the injustice of it all.

Suck it. This was my team.

God I was messed up. I got the shit beaten out of me and here I was, grinning like a madman.

"Taylor. Good. I was about fetch you." Rin descended into the foyer with enviable elegance. "Has Saber finished your training?"

"If that is what we are calling a one-sided beat down these days, sure," I griped with good humor.

If I had learned anything from my fight with Lung, it was that Brutes were monsters. Invincible. Unstoppable. The only way to win was to hit hard or run away as fast as possible.

But for all Lung's power, he was beatable. Sure, he was as strong as all hell and tougher than nails. Lung breathed fire, regenerated wounds, and grew wings, claws and scales. He was a dragon trapped in human form. Yet that, right there, was Lung's weakness. His rising vigor translated into size more than speed. His attacks were exaggerated. His motions far from fast. He could be dodged.

With Lung, I could envision a path to victory.

With Saber? No way in hell. Saber would rip through my guard as though it were paper. Against her, there was no chance of survival. Her speed was incredible, her tactics flawless, and her execution perfection. If Saber was distant, nothing could stop her charge. If she was near, I was dead already. The outcome was as certain as the rising and setting of the sun.

And all that was with Saber holding back.

"For a normal human, defeating Saber is impossible," Rin commiserated. "But you should at least strive to endure until you get help."

"Saber already gave me the three blows speech, and I agree with the sentiment. I just wish it hurt a hell of a lot less," I said while rolling an aching shoulder.

"Sorry," Rin said with a sympathetic smile. "Saber believes that holding back is dangerous, so you'll just have to put up with it."

"Joy," I grumbled with a grimace. "Did you get a chance to talk with my Dad?"

I half hoped her answer was 'no'. This was one can of worms I would rather leave unopened.

"I did. We have a meeting arranged with Danny at noon," Rin said brusquely. The brunette glanced at an antique grandfather clock then sighed. "And it's already a quarter past. Taylor, there should be enough time for a quick shower. I'll lay out a set of fresh clothes for you, if you'd like."

Rin rested against a polished banister, the picture of a demure lady. Ruffled red blouse. Knee length maroon skirt. The only time I had seen Rin in pants was when she sparred in the dojo. Her style was decidedly feminine. Mine? Not so much.

"If I put on a skirt, my Dad will have a heart attack," I quipped.

Rin's nose scrunched. "I have a pair of pants I use for yard work. They are a bit on the ragged side, and I don't think they will fit."

I scrutinized Rin. I had a mere two inches on her, but my figure was that of a gangly teenager ready to grow a whole lot taller. We were a poor match, at best. Rin's shirts were loose enough, so they might fit. Her pants? Well, she was the type to wear them tight.

"Don't worry about it," I waved off. "If I can't squeeze into them, I'll stick to the clothes I have on now."

Rin nodded, brushing past on her way to the foyer. "The bathroom is up the stairs, third door on your right," she called back as she went. "Don't take too long."

I headed up.

The hot shower worked wonders on sweat and sore muscles. I indulged in the flow of stream for a few minutes before exiting with regret. I looked over the clothes Rin laid out. Against my expectations, the jeans had a plenty of play. Rin wasn't kidding when she said they were for yard work. The edges were frayed and a knee had a hole in it.

The bad news? The jeans were too tight around my hips. The good news? The jeans were too tight around my hips. What do you know, I had one curve on Rin.

Then I remembered I had three more inches of growth left in me. Hurray for team bean pole.

Tossing Rin's pants aside, I slipped on a pale blue blouse. It was tight around the shoulders. I peered at myself in the mirror. Colorful and cute. I looked... bright. Rin's ruffled blouse was the sort of shirt Emma would have stuffed me in back when we were friends. The reminder gave birth to a bitter nostalgia.

With a sigh, I pulled on my yucky, sweat soaked jeans.

Heading down, I joined Saber and Rin at the front door. Saber had forgone her classic white shirt, blue skirt combo in favor of a dark suit and tie. She greeted me with a suave bow. Her demeanor spoke of a regal knight ready to escort a princess.

"Taylor," Saber acknowledged. "You look lovely this morn."

"Uh..., thanks?" I said, trying not to be self-conscious in Rin's pastel blue blouse.

I shot the brunette a short glare as I put on my shoes. Rin returned a smug smirk. Nope. Not going to work. I'm a hoodie and jeans kind of girl.

The trip to the Docks was quite. A nervous fear roiled in my belly. How was I going to explain things to my Dad? It was hard enough envisioning his disappointment when he learned I skipped school. I prayed Rin had a good plan. On some level, I regretted being with my team. My family. My problem. This was a battle I should handle on my own.

But it was a whole lot easier to stand back and let Rin take the fore.

Saber pulled into a shopping center two miles from my Dad's work. Grungy, with bits of litter scattered on the lot and medians, but otherwise in good condition. A rarity given we were in the shittier part of town. A massive franchise electronics store composed the center of the strip, while a grocer anchored the far right.

We headed toward the tiny cafe nestled betwixt the two.

My Dad was in the back, nursing a cup of coffee. His head was bowed, his eyes focused on the brown binder set in front of him. He didn't look up until we had crossed the half the floor.

"Taylor?" He said, bewildered.

"Hi." I waved shyly.

My Dad scanned my companions, his lips forming a tight frown. "You aren't in trouble are you?"

"There is no need for concern on your daughter's behalf, Mr. Hebert," Saber answered smoothly. "We are merely here to discuss her future."

If anything, my Dad's frown grew deeper. "And you two are?"

"Saber," Saber answered with a solemn nod.

"Rin Tohsaka," Rin added pleasantly, while shaking his hand. The brunette seized a seat. "We met the night before last. We were discussing the possibility of an apprenticeship for your daughter."

…

Wait. What?

I shot a glance at Rin. What the hell was she talking about? There was no way she planned this out two nights before. Yet, there sat my Dad, blinking his eyes but otherwise accepting Rin's words as though they were unvarnished truth.

 _Clap._ The brown binder shut with a soft patter. If my Dad hadn't been alert before, he definitely was now.

"I remember," my Dad rumbled. He leaned back in his chair, expression stern. "I can't say I'm fond of the idea. I am head of hiring for the Dockworkers Association. I know better than most what happens to those who abandon their education, and I don't want that future for my daughter."

My Dad gave me a meaningful look.

"Mr. Hebert, we have no intent to deprive Taylor of a proper education. Indeed, it is my aim to provide direct tutoring," Saber countered.

My Dad viewed the two woman suspiciously. "Perhaps we should back up a bit here. How did you say you met my daughter again?"

"Taylor ran into me at a crime scene," Rin said matter-of-factly.

I froze. Okay. Seriously. Isn't that a little too close to the truth?

My Dad frowned and looked at me.

"Taylor," he said with a warning tone. His gaze returned to the brunette. "She didn't give you any trouble, did she?"

"A little," Rin said teasingly, eying me with amusement. "But she was able to help out in the end. You daughter has a keen eye and a good sense. Just the kind of thing we look for in our line of work."

"Taylor is a bright girl. Like her mother," my Dad said with a wan smile. "And I'm glad to hear someone else sees it. But I have to ask, what precisely is your line of work?"

"We run a Private Investigation agency–"

My Dad raised a hand. He wore an incredibly uncomfortable expression. "This is not _cape_ related, is it?" he asked, his voice falling into a hush.

"Our agency is completely unaffiliated with the PRT and Protectorate," Rin answered smoothly, her eyes hued with a hint of luminescence. "We do have a parahuman on the team. That's not going to be a problem, is it?"

My Dad's gaze shifted to Saber. I let out a tense breath of relief. I suppose, with a name like hers, that was a natural conclusion to reach.

"No," my Dad answered. "Then you're a normal agency? Insurance fraud, missing persons, background checks?"

"We have a more esoteric bent," Rin answered carefully. "The majority of our contracts are with a research oriented think tank. Though we sometimes get business from government entities. I can't disclose any more details, confidentiality and all that."

"I know how it is," my Dad said, nodding. "Sounds like you deal in big money. The kind of money that likes long resumes and good credentials. So what is it, exactly, that you hope to get from my daughter?"

"You have a talented girl, Danny, and I want to nurture that talent," Rin said simply.

"You'll excuse me if I find that hard to believe," my Dad retorted. "You can't tell me you cannot find someone with a broader background and a more appropriate age."

"There are no colleges that teach what we need," Rin countered. "And there is no one in our agency that didn't pass through an apprenticeship. Besides, surely you have noticed that your daughter's school is destroying her. Why, I caught her skipping just today."

My Dad shot me a look. I shrank in my seat.

"I don't disagree, but you have still failed to explain what it is you–"

"That's enough on that subject," Rin said, waving her hand. Her eyes flashed with intense blue light. "You'll just have to take it on my word that I'm getting my money's worth. I trust you are satisfied?"

"Yes. I am satisfied," my Dad answered robotically. He blinked again, then took off his glasses to worry at the lenses. "Ah. I seem to have lost what I was about to say. Where were we again?"

Huh? My Dad didn't just...

Suddenly it clicked. Rin was using her power.

I knew Unit 09 had a hidden Master, a cape capable of manipulating human memories. I had guessed at who it might be. For a while, I had suspected Shirou, if for no other reason than I knew nothing about his ability. In truth, I had never quite believed it. Shirou never displayed the signs.

For it to be Rin? Well. I couldn't say I was surprised. Rin was absurdly versatile. In fact, she was so versatile that assuming she couldn't do something was probably a bad idea.

And now she was using her power to master my Dad.

"We were going to discuss what it is we are offering your daughter as part of her apprenticeship," Rin said, boldly changing the subject.

"Yes. I believe you mentioned something about providing a tutor."

My Dad's gaze shifted to Saber. The tiny blonde gave tight nod of acknowledgement.

"It is as you say, Mr Hebert. I shall personally provide your daughter with a thorough education."

"Danny, please," my Dad said, holding up a forestalling hand. He sipped his coffee, using the break to study Saber. "Not to be insulting, but you look rather young to be a teacher. How much experience do you have?"

"I have overseen the instruction of more than a thousand students and have personally trained several dozen," Saber declared, authoritatively. "Further, I can say with great pride, that all my pupils have shown immense ability and honor. If Taylor is to be my student, I do not believe you will be dissatisfied with the result."

"That does sound impressive," my Dad said seriously, his tone tainted by a hint of suspicion. "Especially for a PI. Do you have anything to prove your credentials?"

I winced. Normally that would be a good question. Right now?

Rin's eyes lit with pale light. "We reviewed Saber's papers and you were pleased with what you saw."

My Dad's eyes dulled. A moment later he wrenched his gaze away from Rin's. "Of course. I just wanted to double check. This is Taylor's future, after all."

"A father never need apologize for worrying about his daughter," Saber concurred.

My Dad reached across the table and gently clasped my hand. He looked so fragile. Beaten. But, for once, his feeble smile carried a hint of hope.

"Taylor is the only thing I have left," he murmured. Weakness vanished from his face and when he turned his gaze back toward Saber, he was all business. "When will Taylor leave Winslow?"

"Today," Rin answered, flippantly. "We'll clear up the paperwork this afternoon."

My Dad jerked back, startled. "That quick?"

Rin smirked. "I have a way with bureaucracy."

My Dad frowned. "Is there anything you need me to sign?"

"Rin will take care of things on that end," Saber interrupted smoothly. "I would prefer to use our remaining time to discuss the character of Taylor's education."

"Before that," my Dad forestalled. He looked me straight in the eye. "Is this what you want, Taylor? You don't have to do this to get away from that school. If you wish, I can push to have you moved elsewhere."

My smile trembled.

My grades had fallen too far to get into Arcadia, and we didn't have the money to send me anywhere else. Still, my Dad offered, and if I took that offer I knew he would move heaven and earth to make it real. But, to pull it off, he would have to surrender everything. I couldn't do that to him. We already had so little.

No. A different school was an impossible dream.

Or was it?

A shiver went down my spine. If Rin could mesmerize my Dad, what was stopping her from doing the same to the faculty of the Arcadia? If she pushed...

No. That was a bad idea. The Wards went to Arcadia, and if I entered the school under suspicious pretense, it might attract the wrong sort of attention.

The last thing Unit 09 needed was the PRT on the lookout for a human manipulating Master.

Gazing at my Dad I wondered, was this what I wanted? At first blush, it seemed true. No more Winslow. No more terrible trio. Those alone were blessed relief, a breath of fresh air after an eternity locked in a musty dungeon.

But, by doing this, I was running away. Giving up. This was a cheat, a false victory. I hated it. Running was the same as admitting defeat. It was a declaration that they were right, that Taylor Hebert was a pathetic, worthless girl. I wanted to spit on that expectation. I wanted to stand up. I wanted to show them I would never break.

I wanted to win.

My smarter half insisted I already had.

"I think...," I started slowly. Then I continued with strength. "I think this is a good thing."

My Dad let out a breath and closed his eyes for a long time. When he reopened them, his posture was different. Tough. Threatening. This was Danny Hebert, head of hiring for the Dockworker's Association. A man who had relentlessly fought for his employees for the better part of a decade.

"I am expecting a traditional education," he started. "At a minimum I want English, Math, Science, and History to be covered in sufficient depth that Taylor can eventually enter a local college and complete her Associate of Arts. Collecting a G.E.D. should only be a midterm–"

"Danny," Saber interrupted. Her green eyes were fierce. "I appreciate the necessity of a certificate in the modern system and, by my honor, I shall see it done. However, I firmly reject the notion that mere paper can represent a proper education. True mastery requires a healthy body as well as a healthy mind. Skills once taught must be tested if they are to be sharpened into a peerless blade. Are you in disagreement with these notions?"

I picked up the implication that Saber would regard any answer short of yes as a personal insult.

"I'll permit her to engage in field work, if that's what you are asking. God knows, kids could use more of that these days. But I don't want her involved with anything dangerous," my Dad replied.

"You are aware, Danny, that this is a dangerous city," Saber said forcefully.

My Dad folded his arms. "I work on the Docks. I know it better than most."

"Then you understand that, while I will do all in my power to shield her from injury, I cannot promise that your daughter will be unharmed."

Rin pinched her brow as though in pain.

"What Saber is saying is that bruises and scraps come part and parcel with the job," Rin interjected. "However, what we _can_ promise is that Taylor won't encounter anything she won't recover from in a day or two."

I twitched. Technically what she said was true, but only because Unit 09 could apparently repair shattered spines and pulped organs overnight. For all practical purposes, Rin was lying through her teeth.

But the soft glow of her eyes told me that my Dad had already lost this argument.

"Oh. That's all," he said, relaxing into his chair. "I'm fine with a little hard work. But, if I hear Taylor is being exploited...," my Dad trailed off with a dangerous tone.

"If money is involved, we will ensure Taylor is properly compensated," Rin said, waving away his concerns. "I hate to rush, but if we are going to finalize things with Winslow, it would be better to wrap things up right now."

I got the impression Rin was feeling antsy. Then again, I had ruined her plans for the day.

"Very well," Saber intoned. "Then I hope, Danny, that we can arrange a meeting at a later date."

"A parent teacher conference of sorts?" My Dad asked with an amused smile. He stood and offered his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Saber."

"And you as well, Danny," Saber answered, giving a firm shake.

My Dad stood and gave me a hug. I sank into his arms happily. "See you later, kiddo."

"You too, Dad."

We pulled away, bell ringing as we exited the cafe. I stayed silent until we entered the sedan. Then I dropped my mask.

"What the hell was that?" I demanded.

My tone was clipped. Anger, guilt, and disquiet curdled in my gut. My twisted fury was aimed more at myself than Rin. Meeting my Dad. Fucking with his mind. Rin sure as hell should have warned me about her plan before it began.

"Hypnosis," Rin answered calmly. She twisted in her seat to face me, showing no sign that my tone upset her.

"Hypnosis is an elementary form of magecraft most heavily used to control the dissemination of information related to thaumaturgy. As part of basic training, all Enforcers are required to demonstrate the ability to disrupt retention of intermediate term memories, and to hypnotize a civilian to sleep. It is an incredibly useful mystery that I will cover in depth as part of your lessons."

Rin paused. "Oh, and it's harmless, if that's what you were worried about."

"I don't care if it's harmless," I retorted angrily. "Don't use it on my Dad ever again."

"Taylor," Rin said softly. "You do realize that the truth will out eventually?"

Of course I knew that. Lies had a way of making themselves known. Sooner or later, I would slip up. My Dad would learn that I was a cape. I... I was not looking forward to that. Hypnosis would make hiding things a lot easier.

But my Dad was family. The last person I could trust. Betraying that bond?

The thought made me sick.

"If it comes to that, I'll figure something out," I said with a scowl.

Yes, explaining the truth to my Dad would be unpleasant, but this way the consequences of any screw up would fall on my shoulders. The way it should be.

Rin scrutinized me for a minute. "It's your secret, Taylor, so I'll leave the choice in your hands."

I breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thanks."

"Not a problem," Rin said with a smile. She turned to the front then looked back, lips pursed. "I'm planning on hypnotizing the staff at Winslow. Are you going to have an issue with that?"

"No."

I spat the word, surprised by the anger laden within. I thought about Mr. Gladly, Principal Blackwell and how Rin would be fucking with their minds and found that I just couldn't bring myself to give a shit. The only one I had the tiniest sympathy for was Mrs. Knott. Then that emotion withered and died when I recalled how she utterly failed to do anything to _help_ with my problems.

I sat in the back of the car, stewing in my emotions. The rumble of the engine rolled through me. Signs flew past as the sedan rushed down the highway. I felt numb. Empty. If you had asked me yesterday how I would react to all this, I would have said I would be jumping for joy. I was about to be free. Free of Winslow. Free of Sophia, Madison, and Emma.

Free to be a cape.

But none of it felt real. Part of me insisted that, any second now, I would wake up back in the hospital. No powers. No allies. No hope.

"So Saber and Shirou can hypnotize people as well?" I asked, more to pass the time than out of any real curiosity.

"Shirou possesses the skill of which you speak, but I do not," Saber answered, eyes firmly on the road. "The Enforcers adjusted their standards to allow my inclusion."

"Saber doesn't like thaumaturgy, but if she wanted to she could learn," Rin whispered, conspiratorially. "And Shirou barely passed his test. He can put someone to sleep just fine, but ask him to do anything more complicated than that and it's impossible."

Well, so much for Shirou being Heartbreaker II. Honestly, it was a relief to know that two members of my team could not mind fuck me at any moment. The jury was still out on the third.

"And you?"

Rin tilted her head in consideration. "I've never tested my limits. I underwent a procedure at the Clock Tower that artificially altered one of my circuit in exchange for Mystic Eyes of Whispers. So, theoretically, I should be capable of any level of hypnosis up to and including complete enslavement of the will."

I choked. _Complete enslavement of the will?_ How the hell was that harmless? I looked at Rin in horror, desperately searching for any hint that she was embellishing the truth.

"Of course, hypnosis on that level isn't practical. An action as simple as planting a trigger can take an hour of effort. To overwrite the mind completely requires a master of the mystery and months of dedicated work. Even then, suggestions have a tendency to fade with time," Rin said with a regretful sigh. Then she smiled brightly. "However, if I was willing to dedicate the time required, I am confident I could control around twenty people."

Twenty people. That was the entire body of Protectorate capes assigned to Brockton Bay. If any of them heard what I was hearing now, Rin would have a kill order on her head so fast that the sniper bullet would hit her yesterday. Mind controlling capes scared the shit out of people.

Rin was one hell of a terrifying girl.

We pulled into Winslow High's parking lot.

Whatever thoughts I held were replaced by trepidation. It was past noon, but Winslow's lunch hour ran long thanks to an overly large population and a tiny cafeteria. A trio of wannabe gangsters in ABB colors hung out near the dumpsters, smoking cigarettes. Other students milled around, eating, chatting, cutting class.

A janitor tossed a bag of garbage in the trash. Nobody said anything.

And that was Winslow at its root – a school that had given up.

My shoulders shrank as I exited the car. I found myself cursing the pale blue blouse I borrowed. Curious eyes were being drawn to me.

Saber and Rin marched in through the front. I was forced to scurry to keep up, passing Saber only briefly when she chivalrously opened the door for us.

If being outside was bad, being inside was worse. Everyone in the halls stopped and stared. I shrank further, half hiding behind the brunette. Rin remained impervious. With her blue eyes she snatched a dark haired girl I hardly knew.

"Principle's office," Rin demanded imperiously.

The girl looked startled. "D-Down the hall and t-to the right," she stammered, pointing.

Without another word, Rin strode forward. She moved through the students like an implacable tide. Boys and girls moved aside, looking at her then me. Rin was above the fray. Undaunted, she burst into the office. A secretary stood in alarm as Saber drew the door shut behind us.

"Excuse-"

"There is nothing to be concerned about," Rin declared, her eyes blazing pools of blue. "We are here to meet with the principle as was arranged earlier."

The secretary went glassy eyed in an instant. Mindlessly, she slumped into her chair.

"Nothing... to be... concerned..." the woman muttered.

Rin didn't spare her another glance. As one, we entered Blackwell's office. The principal was a slim woman with dirty blond, bowl-cut hair. She looked up the moment we entered, her visage flashing with quickly suppressed annoyance.

"Is there a reason for this?"

Rin smiled like an angel while dropping frigid words as cold as death itself. "Of course. We are here to arrange Taylor's withdrawal. I'm sure that, if we work together, we can have everything squared away before the end of the night."

-oOo-

It took less than an hour to hammer out the paperwork. Principal Blackwell hardly put up a fight, as happy to see me gone as I was to go. Rin's touch with hypnosis was light, hand-waving past insincere questions and feigned concerns for my future.

My relief was palpable. It was done. Over. I never had to go back to Winslow again. I rode the emotional high through a second brutal training session with Saber, then all the way back home. It was great night. Dad and I talked, snuggled, and watched a movie. Dad was happy. Seeing him happy only made me happier. I am sure it was the same for him.

The giddiness held through my late night patrol. Shirou brought a bike, and we investigated five more Merchant locations, including what appeared to be Squealer's workshop. I collapsed into bed, 2:30 in the morning, feeling on top of the world.

But when I splashed my face with icy water in the morning, I felt apprehensive.

All my eggs were in one basket.

What would happen if my team betrayed me? Emma had been my best friend when she stabbed me in the back. Unit 09, I had known for a bare two days. And while there was a lot I liked about them, there were a ton of creepy undertones.

I looked into the mirror. "Don't go there, Taylor."

Saying it out loud disrupted my chain of thought. I cupped another handful of freezing water and hit myself in the face with it. Good. I was awake. I was solid. And as long as I proved useful, they would stay on my side.

Or so I hoped.

I threw on some clothes, stuffed a spare outfit into my bag, then headed out.

My stomach grumbled, reminding me I had skipped breakfast.

I ignored it. I was too excited and too nervous to eat.

Per Saber's instructions, I eschewed my morning run and hopped a bus to Oak Hill. I was early. I arrived a quarter till seven, a full hour before I was expected. I jogged up the road, my nerves ajitter. My body thrummed with eager energy while my mind whispered silent fears into my heart.

I reached the manor without trouble. Out of idle curiosity, I wondered whether that was because I recalled the path or because I had the wooden pendant hanging from my neck. I paused at the wrought iron gates for a moment, then vaulted over like before time. Absently, I reminded myself to ask for a key. I didn't want to turn this into a habit.

I stopped, hunched, when I landed.

Misty air passed from my lungs. The sun glimmered gold on the horizon, caressing me with the first touch of its heavenly rays. No fear. No sense of lingering doom. My insects moved as I willed, their bodies untouched by the grim reaper.

I let out a breath of relief and stood.

I admired the morning's beauty as I strode toward the main door. Dew clung to the leaves of a striped maple, little diamonds shimmering in the light. There was a wildness to the manor's yard. Plants were allowed to grow as they willed, trimmed by human hands so as to augment nature's beauty rather than define it.

I felt a stab of envy at the sight. A giant house. A perfect lawn. That Rin and the others could live in a place like this while Dad and I were stuck in a rotting home was too unfair. I crushed the feeling with a brutal thought. Life would never be fair, and I refused to curse my allies because of their luck.

Besides, in a way, this was my home as well.

I knocked before entering. This might be my team's house, but I had not yet developed the level of rapport I had when Emma was still my best friend. Along with a key to the front gates, that was another set of permissions I needed to establish.

Shirou pulled the open door. The lightly tanned redhead was wearing the frilly apron from the evening before, this time paired with a chef's hat.

"You are early."

I flashed a nervous smile, hoping I had not committed a faux pas. "Saber told me to skip my morning run."

"She wants to adjust your regime," Shirou said with understanding. He stepped aside to give me room to enter. "The others are in the dining hall. And in the future, you may enter without invitation."

"Thanks," I said honestly. I knelt to take off my shoes while the redhead closed the door behind me. "Wasn't sure about that. Also, can I get a key? Seems a little funny jumping over the front gate."

"I'll make a copy," Shirou said, taking my jacket and setting it on a peg. "Have you had breakfast?"

"No," I answered as I stood. Then I started, realizing what he was offering. "Thanks, but no thanks. You don't need to cook anything for me."

Shirou's lips formed a teasing smirk. "We'll see if you can still say that after you eat."

Shirou hustled me into the dining room before returning to the kitchen.

Saber and Rin sat at the knee high table. The surface was covered in a plethora of dishes. Grilled fish. Steamed rice. Miso soup. The breadth and depth of the spread was more suitable for dinner than breakfast.

Neither woman reacted to my presence.

Saber devoured her meal with gusto. The blonde ate at a steady pace, her mind focused to a razor's edge. Each bite was executed with military precision. Not swift. Not hurried. Her manners were proper and efficient, but in a way that left the accumulated totality of her consumption overwhelming.

Rin lazed in sharp contrast. The dark haired woman chewed mindlessly on a piece of toast, hardly making any progress at all. Unkempt hair, cute cat faced pajamas, and a dull eyed gaze completed her sleepy image.

I folded my legs and took a seat at the table. "Uh... hi?"

Saber nodded in acknowledgement while Rin's empty eyes drifted toward me. We stared at each other for a few uncomfortable seconds. _Clack_. Shirou freed me from the awkward moment by setting a cup of tea in front of me.

"Taylor," Saber finally greeted. The small blonde drained her tea in a single gulp. When she faced me, her poise was flawless. "I must apologize. I asked that you come early, but there has been a change of plans. Rin is to meet with Lisa this afternoon. As such, you will be working with her this morning."

I felt a flash of irritation and quickly suppressed it. Unit 09 had made its priorities quite clear. The mission came first. I just wished they had decided things earlier so I could have squeezed in my usual routine.

Yes. I am a creature of habit. I'll admit to it.

"Not a problem," I answered.

"Ah."

Rin blinked, finally realizing I was there. She looked at me for a long moment, her blue eyes blank enough to belong to a zombie. Then, without a word, Rin shoved her plate toward me and flopped to the side to rest her head in Saber's lap.

"Five more minutes," Rin mumbled while curling up into a comfortable position.

I snorted a laugh. "Is that normal?"

"Unfortunately," Saber said. The blonde glared half heartedly at the brunette, her left hand gently stroking the girl's hair. "Once, Rin would have shown restraint. Age, unfortunately, has only served to make her bold."

One part amused and two parts annoyed, I perused the plate Rin shoved in front of me. Only the toast had been touched. With a sigh, I fumbled with my chopsticks and poked at the fish. Meat flaked away easily. The smell teased my nostrils. My stomach grumbled, but I still had enough jitters that eating sounded unpleasant.

Cautiously, I moved a nibble toward my lips.

The second was in my mouth before I finished the first.

Succulent meat melted on my tongue, the charred skin perfectly complementing the subtle flavor of the marinade. I inhaled my meal, my mouth stuffed as I took in the heavenly tastes, the rich depths and heady aroma of the miso soup, the plain simplicity of the rice. The meal was a work of art, each portion forged into a greater whole.

Shirou cooked this? No wonder he had been wearing that smirk.

I had devoured my fish and was halfway though the soup when Shirou came out with a second course. The first plate he placed before Saber, who rocked back and forth like an excited child.

Shirou nudged Rin awake and the final two members of Unit 09 joined the feast.

By the end of breakfast I was overly full and more than a little glad that Saber's morning exercise had been delayed. While Rin bumbled her way upstairs to finish getting dressed, I volunteered to help Shirou with the dishes. Secretly, I plotted how I would scheme my way into future meals.

Sorry Dad, but you would do the same in my place.

I had just finished cleaning the last plate when a bright eyed Rin appeared.

"Ready?"

"Give me a second," I said while drying my hands.

I followed Rin through a short hall and into a lightly decorated drawing room. The room was barren, furnished with only a couch, two chairs, and a glass table set in wrought iron. The desolate atmosphere filled the entire manor, broken only in the kitchen and cozy dining room I left behind. The house, I realized, lacked junk. Unit 09 had not lived here long enough to claim the entire space for themselves.

Rin stopped in front of a heavy oak door and fished out a set of keys. _Clack. Clack._ Two brass bolts clicked out of place. Rin pulled the door open, revealing dark stairs descending into the manor's depths.

The dreaded basement.

I shivered and was not at all confident that the feeling was my mind playing tricks on me.

Rin took two steps down.

I did not budge an inch.

"Full stop," I called. "You can forget me walking down there until I know it's safe, because I learned my lesson yesterday after hopping over the front gate without my necklace."

"Taylor!" Rin whirled, a furious expression on her face. "I warned you that the wards on this house are no joke. You can't go poking around-"

"I just told you I figured that out," I retorted angrily, cutting her off. "And that's exactly why I'm not taking one more step until I know that walking down those stairs won't kill me."

Rin had glossed over a few important details on the first night. Filling your house with death traps? That was something the host was obligated to highlight. I was willing to give her a _little_ leeway because she had, at least, _warned_ me about it. But Rin had fallen well short of making that warning absolutely clear.

To say I was a bit unhappy about it was a massive understatement.

Rin pinched her nose.

"I forget you are not a magus," Rin murmured. The Asian woman shifted, holding up a finger in what I now recognized as her lecture pose. "Listen close, Taylor. We have a saying: _to be a_ _magus is_ _to_ _walk with death_. Thaumaturgy is dangerous. And I do not mean 'you will skin your knee' dangerous. I mean 'you will die horribly' dangerous. So when I tell you not to do anything in anyway related to magecraft, _do not do it_. I am not kidding about that, Taylor. _You will die_."

And _that_ was the speech she should have given the night before last. I was glad to see that she cared, but Rin had a serious problem with the details.

"Got it," I said, stomping on my anger. "Now, about that door, because you specifically warned me against entering the basement."

"You will be fine as long as you're with me."

"And if I'm not?" I asked pointedly.

Rin sighed. "The door is warded with a bounded field. If an unauthorized person tries to open it, it'll release an extremely painful electrical shock. If you are stupid enough to try to push through anyway, a second field will transmute your blood into acid."

I cringed. That sounded... unpleasant. That Rin had the foresight to place her lethal defense behind a non-lethal one was good. Hearing the explicit manner of my death was not. If anything, I inspected the steps with greater wariness.

"So... I'm okay if I go down there right now?" I asked to double check.

"Yes," Rin said impatiently.

"And... uh... the bounded field is not going to get confused on account of the fact that I am a parahuman, right?" I added.

"It's perfectly safe, Taylor. Now stop dawdling. We don't have all day," Rin said impatiently.

I was beginning to suspect the real reason for the saying ' _t_ _o be a magus is to walk with death_ ' was to warn outsiders that magi were screwed in the head. Because, last time I checked, any device that turned my blood into acid _never_ qualified as safe.

With a painted smile, I stepped through the door.

Nothing. No searing pain. No ruptured veins. My blood did not spill forth in rivers from boiling flesh. I let out a breath. Rin gave me an annoyed huff and led me the rest of the way down.

The basement's walls were built from cobbled stone. The gray rock was fitted like a tight jigsaw then mortared together in a layer as fine as brick. Iron lamps were mounted to the walls, shedding yellowed light from the bulbs hidden inside. It looked warm and archaic.

In truth, it was a bit chilly.

The room was filled with tomes and baubles. Squat shelves ran along the walls, broken by cabinets and storage bins that reached the ceiling. Half the space was taken by musty tomes, many of which had seen more than a century of life. Books spilled from their homes, forming piles on the floor while long scrolls extended haphazard from a set of pots. On a far table was a chemistry set. Beakers and vials were strewn betwixt balance and alembic. Most of the tubes and glasswork were clean and empty, but a few were filled with unrecognizable solutions.

 _Brshh wrshh_. The sound of pen scratching paper drew my attention to the device on my right. It was an odd machine, consisting of a mechanical arm, clamp, and suspended pen. The instruments moved at a whirl, sketching cursive words onto a ream of paper.

Rin claimed a long table at the back end of the basement, brushing aside scattered notes and what looked to be the disassembled remnants of a tinker-tech rifle.

She paused in her bustling to look over her shoulder at me.

"Before I forget, I need your necklace."

I gave her a look.

"Yes, it's safe," Rin said irritably. "I finished keying you into the field last night. But our conversation upstairs reminded me that Lisa needs a key in case she wanders off."

"You are going to explain clearly why she needs it, right," I warned, while handing over the wooden token.

"I will give her the same speech I gave you," Rin replied.

The brunette snatched the necklace then slapped a penny sized rock into my open palm. Red glass. No. A ruby. I never was one for girly things, but I had spent enough time with Emma to know my precious stones. It looked expensive. Too big to be set in a ring, which meant it was probably worth a few thousand.

At minimum.

"Strip, sit in the circle, then swallow," Rin ordered.

My head shot up. "What?"

Rin stopped. "You heard me. Strip."

My mouth gaped. "Aren't you going to explain why?"

"No, that would take too long," Rin retorted. "Now strip. I will put down a blanket for you to lay on. The ground is cold and we are going to be here for a while."

I stared. Rin didn't budge. With a sigh, I started working off my shirt. "Can you at least give me a run down?"

"I will talk as I work, but I cannot promise I will cover everything," Rin said brusquely. She opened a chest and began sorting through a random mess of goods. "Oh. You can keep your underclothes on. But I need access to the majority of your skin."

Great. I pulled off my shirt and started loosening my belt. I was not the least bit happy. I had a gawky, undeveloped frame. It was bad enough having to show it off in the locker room at Winslow. Stripping in front of Rin was far worse. Rin was just short of a stranger and had a figure I would kill for. Standing next to her in bare flesh made me feel like a piece of meat being judged.

Thank god Shirou was not down here.

Wait. Rin slept with Saber, right? Did that make her...

While I dwelled on my embarrassment, Rin spread an old woolen blanket over the grooved circle cut into the center of the room. Wonderful. Soon I was going to be blushing, shivering, and itching all at the same time.

Mood set, I considered the ruby in my hand. Rin had better not be expecting me to dig through my excrement to reclaim it.

Down the hatch.

Tilting my head, I swallowed. The hard lump hit my stomach like a hammer. I stumbled. A blaze exploded in my gut, a fierce inferno hot enough to make me tear up in pain. Tendrils of searing heat spread from the core, flowing through my veins. I burst into a sweat. My blood was on fire, a feverish heat like that of an illness.

Then my limbs went numb. Skin lost all feeling and muscles grew weaker than a new born babe's.

I fell.

Rin caught me. With surprising gentleness, she laid me on the ground.

"The burning sensation is my prana spreading through your system," Rin explained. "It will hurt at first, but the pain should diminish quickly. I spent a few hours modifying this one, so hopefully the effect will be gone by the end of the day rather than after a few weeks."

 _Hopefully?_ I blinked tears from my eyes and gurgled my discontent. " _Gh..g-g._ "

I could barely breath. There was a weight on my chest, a pressure choking my breath. My tongue was thick and numb. The fire gripped the whole of me now, the pain dulled by the spreading. Instead it sickened and ached, afflicting every bit of my flesh.

"Don't try to speak. Your body is not used to cycling prana. For now, it is best to concentrate on breathing," Rin said. "I'm a bit envious. I'm told that the process is easier on adults. My father did this to me when I was six."

Rin maneuvered around me, gathering a series of instruments including a pair of multi-lensed glasses straight from a mad scientist's lair. I whimpered. My body was stricken by an unnatural heat, but the chill of earth sank into me all the same. Cold as well as hot. The worst of both worlds.

"The purpose of this experiment is to map your spiritual circuits. Your spiritual circuits make up a circulatory system of sorts, the purpose of which is to convey prana between your physical body and your soul. The gem you swallowed contained a large amount of my own energy, and thus serves a function similar to radioactive dye," Rin continued, kneeling at my side.

"All humans have spiritual circuits. For the most part this system only connects to that individual's inner world. However, on uncommon occasions people are born with a surplus. With the soul fully occupied, these 'extras' are left with nothing with which to attach. They thus become conduits with which that person can interact with the outer world. For simplicity, modern thaumaturgy refers to these 'extras' as 'magical circuits'. These magical circuits form the foundation of all the traditional arts."

I grunted. Listening to Rin and concentrating on her words helped. It drew my mind away from the dull, throbbing agony that was my body.

Above me, Rin fiddled with the maniacal glasses. Half-a-dozen multicolored lenses extended from the frame in miniature mechanical arms. Rin set the pair on her head then tweaked the metal limbs so that her right eye was obscured by four monocles of colored glass.

"If my hypothesis is correct, all parahumans should have a sizable set of magical circuits," Rin continued. She frowned, then shifted out the red and yellow monocles in favor of a pale green lens. "Except, instead of being completely disconnected, the circuits should be routed into the spiritual organ supplying your parahuman powers."

Satisfied with her setup, Rin ran her fingers down my back tracing invisible lines. I shivered and had to still myself to avoid drawing away. The situation was utterly clinical, but uncomfortable all the same.

"Oh," Rin breathed, sounding pleased. "This is a good sign. You have quite the robust system for someone without a lineage. Now, let's see where these circuits lead."

Rin pressed a fingernail against my back then flicked.

 _Tong._

Not a tone. A vibration. My soul shook, letting loose a cascade of a hallucinatory senses. Multi-colored light rippled in my eyes while pins and needles crawled across my skin. My power quivered in resonance. Houses and streets fluxed in and out of scope as my control crested and troughed. My range warbled, expanding, shrinking, warping along the edges like a gelatinous mess.

I gasped, more in shock than in pain.

"Can you feel that?" Rin asked, twisting to peer into my eyes. "Wait. I forget. You can't talk right now. How about this? If you detect a flux in your powers, tap your fingers against the ground three times."

I narrowed my eyes into a nasty glare and tapped out a triple rhythm with my hand.

Rin smiled brilliantly. "Perfect. Thank you, Taylor, that will make things much faster. Now, I'm going to go through your circuits one-by-one. Hopefully this won't take more than an hour."

Joy.

We fell into a pattern. Rin did whatever it was she was doing. Sometimes a feeling would pierce the haze of fire. Other times it would not. When my power shifted, I tapped on the ground at hurried pace. I wanted this experiment over and done with.

Rin, though, was anything but rushed.

By the time we reached the end, the fire's roar had dulled into a feverish warmth. Breathing was easier. Tears no longer occluded my eyes.

Which almost made up for the fact I was as cold as hell.

The dark haired woman swept the mechanical glasses from her face and set them aside. Stretching up, Rin rolled her torso to work out the kinks.

"The good news, Taylor, is that you have thirteen circuits in all. Better yet, eight of those circuits are free, which means you can use them for magecraft," Rin said happily. She patted me on the back. "We will make a proper Enforcer out of you yet

"Unfortunately, I could not locate the spiritual organ that is the source of your parahuman power. Odder still is how few circuits it consumed. Given the level of your mystery, I was expecting a number closer to twenty rather than five," Rin sighed. "I suppose I will have to probe deeper. Don't worry, this part won't take any longer than the first."

I rolled my neck and glared at her. "...Fuck … you," I gurgled from my space on that ground.

I swear, if I thought I was in good enough condition to do it, I would have stood up and walked out right then.

I'm not sure if Rin flat out ignored me or if she just didn't notice my mood, but she got up and moved over to her desk. While Rin was fiddling with her things, I tucked myself into a ball for warmth. Two minutes later, Rin was back at my side, a bag full of gems at her hip.

"Spread out," Rin commanded.

I gave Rin a half-hearted glare then complied. I despised the poking and prodding, but I would rather finish the experiment now rather than restart it later. That, and I wanted to know more about my powers at least as much as Rin did.

"Now hold still," Rin ordered. "We don't want to do this twice."

Rin set a cold jewel on my back. I hissed. A needle of pain stabbed through my spine. I choked, clenching the wool blanket as more gems joined the first. The fevered heat drained from my body, spiraling into lances of fire.

"That's odd," Rin murmured, nudging one of her stones. "I had expected some level of flow. Taylor, can you do me a favor and use your parahuman ability?"

"I'm always using my power," I snapped.

I hurt. The blanket itched. I was cold, half naked, and embarrassed. I was miserable. My muscles ached. My organs cooked. Oh, and I had a pounding headache left over from when Rin fiddled with my ability.

I hated this.

"Then try to do something energy intensive," Rin retorted, sounding annoyed.

I bit my lip in frustration, grunting when one of the blades of fire shifted. Concentrate. Something energy intensive... Energy intensive... What the hell did I have that was energy intensive? Shit. I couldn't think of anything. In the end, I tried to form a bug clone, like I had during the fight with Lung. It was hard. Not just because I couldn't remember how I had done it the first time, but because I was working through the fog wall surrounding the basement as well as the one surrounding the estate.

"Are you doing anything, Taylor?"

"I'm trying!" I hissed.

Since one clone wasn't enough, I formed three. Rin remained silent. Fine. Reaching out with my mind, I raised my effort to the next level and made my clones dance. And by dance I mean hop up and down like tone deaf idiots.

"I am still getting nothing," Rin said. She sighed. "I don't understand. Why did it connect to those circuits if it's not using them?"

"Can I stop?"

Rin looked startled. "Yes. Yes, you can stop, Taylor."

I let out a breath and scattered my insects, making sure to reward the more useful creatures by directing them toward various treats. If this house was going to be my base, then I needed nice healthy hives on hand.

Rin swept the gems off my back. The blazing points of fire dispersed through my flesh, fading back into a dull fevered heat. Rin gathered her tools into her bag and rose to return them to their homes. I took that as a hint to reach for my clothes.

"Are we done?"

"No. We still have two things left on our agenda," Rin answered, glancing back. "But you may dress, if that's what you are asking."

She didn't have to tell me twice.

I pulled on my pants and shirt in a hurry. Well, in as much as a hurry as I could while sick and dizzy. I still felt cold, but no longer _shivering_ cold. Instead, it was the kind of chill I got when I was running a temperature.

Half wobbling, I stood and _stretched._

Bliss.

Relatively.

"Taylor, if you could pick up that blanket for me and stand in the center of the circle, we can get started on the next test."

I scowled. "This isn't going to hurt, is it?"

Rin paused.

"Maybe a little," she admitted. "But you'll probably feel better afterwards, as this will pull most of the excess prana from your system."

Great.

I picked up the blanket and put it away using the expert method of throwing it over my shoulders. The warmth felt nice, and with a layer of clothes between me and it, I didn't itch either.

Rin walked around the uncovered circle, setting down candles and crystals at various points. Amber, agate, jadeite, jasper and a dozen other stones were set about the floor. Rin ringed the outer and inner layers of the circle, then placed a final set of rocks and jewels amongst the glyphs between the two.

"What is the point of this test?" I asked, gazing around curiously. It was easier to be interested when I was not so miserable.

"The circle will pull prana from your active circuits and that energy will naturally be drawn to the stones most closely related your elemental affinity," Rin answered.

"Like Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and all that jazz?"

"Those are the traditional four. However, modern thaumaturgy covers a much wider selection," Rin concurred. "Now get in the middle, Taylor."

I looked at the circle, contemplated my recent suffering, then said what the hell and stepped inside. If enduring more crap would leave me less sick, it was worth it. After all, how much worse could it be?

Rin started her chant.

Eldritch fingers gripped my heart and tore. I fell to my knees, hardly hearing Rin's rising words. The circle lit blood red. _Th-thud. Th-thud._ My veins and arteries unraveled. Meat was stripped from bone. _A lie_. While my mind wallowed in a sea of sensation, my body remained in place, unharmed.

Then, all at once, it stopped.

A wave of dizziness struck me. It took all my will not to fall flat on my face. I looked around. The light faded. Like Rin promised, I felt better. The inner heat was gone, replaced by an incredible weariness. My limbs were heavy and my mind dull, as though I had run ten miles and skipped an entire night's sleep.

"Opal in the outer circle, representing the shadow cast by air," Rin observed. "An intangible element. The most common forms being Sight, Memory, Knowledge, and Information. That mirrors the nature of your parahuman ability, which grants control over insects through the dispersal of consciousness. Which came first, I wonder. Your element, or your power?"

"That a good thing or a bad thing?" I asked.

Information. To me, that meant Thinker or Tinker. Though that element could just as easily reference Master or Stranger. Rin's abilities though worked on a completely different concept as far as I could tell. Magic circuits. Elements. Shit I did not know.

"An element is neither good or bad. It simply represents the most natural expression of your magecraft, the form of thaumaturgy you will find easiest to use," Rin explained. She paused in thought then moved over to a white board.

"Think of it this way. Imagine a circle with the concept of Information. Now, imagine a second circle enveloping the first with the concept of Intangible."

Rin drew the two circles. First a small circle labeled 'Information'. Then a second, bigger circle was drawn around the first and marked 'Intangible'. Finally, inside the second Intangible circle Rin added a third circle labeled 'Shadow'.

"Since your natural element is Information, you will find thaumaturgy of a corresponding type easiest to use. This includes mysteries such as Hypnosis or Structural Analysis. However, as your understanding of your element's origin increases, you will gain better access to the Intangible element and through it an improved ability to use mysteries of the element Shadow."

Rin then drew an even larger circle and labeled it 'Existent'. Then inside that circle, but separate from Intangible, she added another named 'Concrete'. Finally, inside 'Concrete', Rin added a series of five circles labeled 'Fire', 'Air', 'Earth', 'Water', and 'Aether'.

"In contrast, I am an Average One, which means I encompass the five major elements. However, because I have a firm understanding of my connection to the superordinate Concrete and Existent elements, I do not suffer too much trouble when using deviant mysteries such as those strongly associated with the elements Shadow and Information."

"So the better you understand your element and how it relates to other elements, the more versatile you become," I said, nodding. Put like that, an element was closer to an ordinary talent than a parahuman power. "I guess the goal then of... uh.. thaumaturgy is to learn the root of your element so that you can make the best use of all mysteries?"

A great smile blossomed on Rin's face.

"Exactly! You don't know how many times I had to explain this to Shirou before he understood," Rin lamented. "A magus is naturally one who seeks the root, as the act of studying thaumaturgy is identical to the attempt to grasp Akasha, the root of all things. Though you need to be careful when saying such things, because there are those who seek Akasha in a far more literal sense."

Rin began cleaning up the mess on the ground. I walked across the basement to sit on a lonely bench for a few moments, bone tired. Between the blanket and my clothes, I was warming up, but I didn't particularly feel like doing anything, so I watched Rin work.

A memory stirred.

"You said there was one more thing."

"Yes. We need to establish a mental switch. An aria to give you better control over your circuits," Rin answered. "Give me a minute. I need to clean up a bit more."

"And what does this 'experiment' entail?" I said tiredly. "Because your last three wiped me out."

"Nothing on your part," Rin replied, standing on her tip toes to return a bundle of crystals to a high cabinet. "All you have to do is sit there and not think about anything. For me, it will the better part of the an hour to make sure the association is firm."

I just have to sit there. I snorted. The first two stages involved just lying on the ground, the third just standing in a circle. That fact I didn't have to do anything did not make those tasks any less exhausting.

"Can we save it for tomorrow?" I pressed. "I think I've done enough for the day."

Rin paused for a moment. "I suppose we could, but it would be better to do this while the feel of your circuits is fresh in your mind. Come on, Taylor. This one won't hurt, I promise."

"Uh huh," I noised, disbelieving.

"Really, it won't. In fact, you won't feel a thing, I guarantee it," Rin said, putting away the last stone. She walked over at me, and tapped the bottom of my chin with a finger. "Now chin up. For you, this won't take more than a minute."

I let out an exasperated sound and looked up. Straight into her blazing blue–

…

…

…

"... now if you would set that box on that table over there."

Huh?

I looked around, shocked to find myself standing in the drawing room next to the basement. My body moved mechanically to place a cardboard box on the glass table.

"Perfect," Rin said with approval. "Now take a seat and rest until you recover. I need to start preparing for Lisa soon, so-"

"What the–?" I said, snapping to full awareness. What the hell happened? No. I knew what happened. "You hypnotized me."

"Ah. Taylor. You're awake," Rin said, startled. "Good, that saves-"

"Good? What the hell do you mean good?" I said angrily. "You hypnotized me."

Rin frowned and set a hand on her hip.

"Of course I did, Taylor. Thaumaturgy uses a system of self hypnosis to associate certain forms of prana manipulation with specific patterns of words. Since you are currently unable to hypnotize yourself, that left me with the duty to do so in your stead."

"You hypnotized me," I repeated. "Do think it is okay to fuck with other people's minds?"

I was more than angry. I was in a panic. My heart was pattering fast. My hands were shaking. I was terrified. The idea that Rin or one of the others might use their Master power on _me_ had been a persistent nightmare since the moment I joined the team.

"Of course not," Rin said, tone perfunctory. "But this is an important part of your education, Taylor. If you are worried I can assure you that I didn't implant more than the necessary triggers to activate your circuits. An hour wouldn't have been enough time for more than simple suggestion anyway."

She... She actually thought this was no big deal! I felt my hands ball into fists. This... If this was what Unit 09 was like...

I would do what? I couldn't leave. I had withdrawn from Winslow and had nowhere to go. If I hung out at home, my Dad would find out fast that I was not going to school and explaining things to him was a mess and a half.

Dammit.

I grit my teeth. "Never do it again."

Rin folded her arms. Her visage showed not the slightest sign of sympathy. "No."

"Never. Do. It. Again," I growled. "I will quit the team if I have to."

"Taylor, how do you expect to resist mind controlling mysteries if you don't train against them?" Rin retorted. "As it is, your inability makes you a danger to yourself and the entire team."

I choked on my words. Wait. What? Train? Where did that come from?

"Sit down," Rin ordered.

I didn't move.

"Sit!"

I sat. Rin's expression was stormy. This was not like before. Rin was not angry on my behalf. No. This time, Rin was flat out pissed.

"Taylor, it seems we are butting heads. As your squad leader, that makes it my duty to address your issues before they develop into something serious," Rin said authoritatively. "Now, there are certain things that you, as a member of this team, will be expected to do. When I tell you to do these things, I will not always have the time nor the inclination to explain myself fully. Is this going to be a problem?"

"It hasn't been a problem yet, has it?" I retorted. I was scrunched in my chair, feeling like a student scolded by a teacher. But that did not dim the anger throbbing in my heart.

"Then I will assume it won't be in the future," Rin dismissed. "I will, of course, try to explain if I get the chance, but until then you will just have to trust me. Are you able to trust me, Taylor?"

Trust her? How could I trust her? I hardly knew her.

"Let me repeat myself. Are you able to trust me, Taylor? Or are you going to treat my every action as a potential hostile act?"

As a hostile act? Had I? Yes. I just had. Rin had hypnotized me, yeah. And she shouldn't have done so without explaining herself first, definitely. She damn well knew I had a problem with Hypnosis. There was no question about that. I had the right to be angry. But I was also being a giant hypocrite. Just yesterday, I had watched her do the same thing to a dozen others with nary a word.

More importantly, had she hurt them? Had she used her power to do something unforgivable? No and no. At Winslow, Rin had done little more than clear a schedule and suppress awkward questions. To my Dad she gave hope. Yeah. It was the wrong way to do things, but it wasn't the wrong result.

What was I afraid of? _Complete enslavement of the will._ I shuddered. Yeah. That. Rin having access to my mind? It was impossible not to think of the horrible things Emma, Sophia, or Madison would have done with that power.

"It's... not that easy," I said finally.

Rin's expression softened with sympathy. _She knows_. My heart lurched. Had Rin and Saber heard the whispers in the corridors of Winslow? Had she gone back? Had Rin questioned the faculty without me there? It would have been easy, with Rin's ability, to get the entire story. To learn about Emma, my best friend, and how she pissed all over the bond formed between us.

"Can you at least try?" Rin asked quietly.

I nodded.

"Then I think things will work out," Rin said, releasing a heavy breath. "I will not say you were wrong to be angry at me. I shouldn't have hypnotized you without first explaining why. But, Taylor, at least try to assume that I have a good reason for the things I do."

It took me a moment to realize that Rin's stiff words were an an apology.

I breathed and tried to do my best to let go of my anger. It helped to remember the clothes she lent, how she helped with Winslow, the conversation on our first night, and, of course, Lung. Rin was pushy, which was nice when I needed a push, but was mostly annoying.

"I will try," I said because, after Emma's betrayal, that was the best I could promise.

"Then enough of that," Rin said, shoving the matter aside. "Now repeat after me: _Anfang_ _A_ _der_."

I frowned, my tongue testing the German lilt. " _Anfang_ _A_ _der._ "

Emptiness gripped me. Eight rows of fire ripped through my back. I hissed, startled by the suddenness of the pain. The rivers of lava continued their roar. Burning. Searing. But, with each beating of my heart, the agony of their presence lessened.

"What the hell?" I gasped.

"Those are your eight primary circuits, which means the first aria I carved into your mind works perfectly," Rin said, looking pleased with herself. "It will hurt less the more you get used to them, so you need to practice. For now, though, we should stick to the basics. You can stop the flow with _Beenden_ or use _Anfang_ _Käfer_ to activate the five circuits that connect to your parahuman ability."

" _Beenden_ ," I pronounced, my lips automatically finding the right shape.

The fire stopped.

"As I was saying when you woke up, Lisa will be here soon so you will be on your own for the next hour or so. As such, I want you to focus on a simple exercise. Activate your circuits, but instead of activating all eight try to selectively choose which circuits you turn on. Then, when you have complete control, do the inverse with your deactivation aria."

I grimaced. As if I wasn't hurting bad enough already. But I was not one to back down either.

"I can handle that."

Rin smiled. "It'll probably take you a few hours to get it right, but if you finish early take that box over to Shirou and tell him that he is to teach you Reinforcement."

I peered at the box, opening the lid to look inside. Candles?

"If there is nothing else, I'm off," Rin said, heading toward the basement door. She paused a moment before opening it. "Ah. One last thing. Remember, to be a magus is to walk with death. So, under no circumstance should you try to perform any mystery you haven't been taught. Otherwise-"

"I might die," I finished.

"You _will_ die," Rin corrected. "If you make a habit of attempting mysteries you are not ready for, Taylor, there will be no 'might' about it."

-oOo-

 _ **Hypnosis –** A definitive skill of any trained magus. Hypnosis uses prana to interfere with the normal operation of the target's brain, placing them in a suggestive state. The mystery is conveyed through a sensory connection, usually eye contact, though sounds or smells may suffice. Due to the nature of the mystery, it is more effective on relaxed or unguarded targets. However experts, particularly ones equipped with Mystic Eyes of Whispers, have been known to use Hypnosis on panicking targets or in the midst of combat._

 _Hypnosis is a highly versatile mystery and can be used to convey a multitude of mental manipulations. The easiest manipulation is the disruption of the brain's memory-transfer system, the most common form being the disruption of intermediate-term memory to long-term memory transfer. When used, this technique effectively 'deletes' the last hour of experienced events. Skilled users can take this action one step further and selectively edit the transferred memories, removing or adding key details._

 _Long term memory cannot be directly modified using Hypnosis, however the target's brain may be tricked into generating false memories. Care must be taken with this technique, as the target retains a full set of memories with which to compare. As such, obvious manipulations will be quickly noticed._

 _The most famous use of Hypnosis is the implantation of suggestions. These suggestions can be immediate – such as 'sleep', 'run', 'jump' – or set for a delayed trigger. The more complicated the suggestion, the more difficult it is to implant. Suggestions naturally depend on the target's interpretation of events when carried out. Triggers are not infinitely durable and, as such, must be renewed on a regular basis._

 _Hypnosis is one of three thaumaturgic skills required to join the Sealing Designation Enforcers._

 _ **Mystic Eyes of Whispers** – A form of mystic eyes that allow the evocation of Hypnosis through eye contact. In terms of effect, the Hypnosis produced is weaker than that wielded by an expert of the mystery, but is quicker to take hold and harder to resist._

 _If one possess both eyes of whispers and skill with Hypnosis, the effects become cumulative. The net result is said to be equal to the Mystic Eyes of Enchantment wielded by high class vampires._


	5. Chapter 5

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 5**  
-oOo-

By noon, I could reduce my activation to two circuits at once, which was a far cry from selectively controlling which circuit was active. So I missed Shirou's training. I didn't feel down about it for long, thanks to the impossibly succulent lunch. Afternoon, however, brought nothing but misery. Saber thrashed me soundly for the better part of the evening. Those hours of humiliating agony were broken only by Saber's intermittent explanations of methods and techniques. Techniques which would theoretically prevent such thrashings, but which in practice inevitably failed to deliver.

I retired for the night, headed home, and spent some time with my Dad. I squeezed in a little secret practice activating and deactivating my circuits. It was tempting to do more. Five of my circuits did all sorts of interesting things to my powers and I desperately wanted to experiment. Rin's warning, however, stayed firm in my mind.

A quick nap at nine was followed by a two hour patrol. Nothing special. Just more locations to investigate, new Merchant bases to uncover, and another quiet lesson in villain economics 101: pyramid schemes, cronyism, and internal territory disputes.

That brought me to today, six-thirty in the morning. Just about now, my Dad would be stepping into the shower. I had him warned of my intent last night, though not the reason for it.

I arrived at the manor to bum off food.

Yes. I was a terrible person...

...a terribly hungry person.

I knocked on the front door. This time I let myself in.

"Hi," I said, hoping nobody would call me on my mooching. "Sorry I'm a bit early."

"Taylor!" a new voice shouted back.

I entered the dining room to find the speaker. Blonde hair, check. Vulpine smile, check. She was sitting in my spot... double check.

Before I could say anything, Lisa scooted to the side, patting the spot next to her. I took it, glancing at the other two girls. Saber was wearing a fancy blue suit, complete with a pencil skirt. The image drew a raised brow, but the blonde failed to answer my implied question – her chopsticks held at ready, her whole world focused on the battle to come.

Seated next to her was the newly risen dead. Rin gazed drearily, looking as though she would devour our brains for having the gall to be bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning.

The hero entered the scene.

"Told you she would be here," Lisa quipped.

Shirou set a platter in front of the freckled blonde, lips curled with faint amusement. "Your reward."

The redhead distributed food amongst the five of us. Today's breakfast was an oriental chicken dish set on a bed of rice. I tasted it cautiously, the unfamiliar flavors rolling over my tongue. It took three bites before I reached a consensus. After that, the remainder of the meal was a test of self restraint.

 _Clack._ Saber slapped her first bowl on the table, instantly lifting a second to shovel the contents down her endless maw. Yes. Self restraint. I didn't want to end up acting like that.

"Why are you here?" I asked, curious.

"Rin and I worked late," Lisa answered, tackling her meal with gusto. "So I decided to stay overnight."

In other words, she was here to mooch. Not that I was about to complain. It was nice to hang out with a girl my age. Saber was, well, older and too regal beside. Rin was my boss and that was saying nothing about dissident personalities. Yeah, half that was my fault. I had a problem with authority. The other half was because Rin was Rin.

I worked my chopstick slowly. I mimed Shirou and Rin's movements, holding the implements slightly apart to form a two pronged fork. My first try ended in failure. I reduced the gap.

Better.

"So..., how are things working with the new team?" Lisa asked.

"Fine," I said stiffly.

"Hmm?"

Lisa leaned forward, twisting so she could see my face. I shot her a glare. She flashed a broad smile in response. For once it looked genuine.

"A little rocky but hopeful, then?"

Irritation flashed across my visage. "Don't use your power on me."

My annoyance made Lisa's smile grow wider. She formed a playful claw with her left hand and wiggled her fingers.

"What did you expect? I'm a dastardly villain."

I gave Lisa the cold shoulder and shoveled another mouthful of rice and meat into my maw. My gaze drifted over the table. Rin was eating mechanically, her frame resting against Shirou's in an adorable sleepy manner. Saber was already on her third bowl, emptying the contents with impossible speed and precision.

When she finished, Saber set her chopsticks down.

"Taylor, I regret to repeat my disruption, but there is a matter to which I must attend. As such, Shirou will oversee your morning education and I will handle your instruction in the afternoon."

"I'm good with that," I said with a nod. Anything to delay my inevitable beat down. But... "Is this going to be normal?"

"No. I believe things will settle once I have finished your syllabus," Saber answered.

Rin stirred. "Saber. That's not true. Unit obligations take precedence."

"You are correct, Rin. I have misspoken," Saber said, bowing her head in acknowledgement. "What I intended to convey is that Taylor should not expect these deviances to be common. A standardized schedule will be created and abided by and, wherein that schedule is not met, hours will be set aside to complete the interrupted instruction."

It was good that Saber was taking these things seriously. My Dad would be happy. Err. Actually, he would go ballistic, seeing how I was being taught by an unaccredited teacher. But, after raging, he would be happy that I really was receiving instruction rather than simply skipping school.

Myself? I could do with some skipping. Intellectually, I knew my education was important, but Winslow had soured the experience.

Shirou nudged Rin, who had gone from resting on his shoulder to flat out snoozing. Rather than wake, Rin squirmed into a more comfortable spot. Shirou scooped her up with a sigh.

"I will take her back to bed."

Saber was disapproving. "Remind her when she wakes that evening practice will only be held while Taylor's skill remains insufficient." Saber rose, brushing off her skirt, before turning to the freckled blonde. "Lisa, will you require transport?"

"Nah," Lisa dismissed, with a wave. "I will stick around for the nine-o'clock bus. That will give me a chance to schmooze with your teammate."

"Very well then," Saber said. "I trust that you have been suitably warned?"

Lisa held out the wooden necklace and waggled it around. "Rin told me all about Chateau La Death Trap. I know the drill. Be a good girl, keep my hands and fingers to myself, and don't try to enter the toolshed or the basement on the pain of horrific death."

Saber nodded stiffly. "Then I shall depart."

The diminutive blonde left. Since Shirou was still upstairs, I started gathering the dishes intent on carrying out my fraction of the chores. Surprisingly, Lisa followed me in. From the way she propped herself up on a counter, I got the hint that she wanted to talk not help.

"What do you want?" I asked, deciding to be straight forward.

"I just wanted to make sure you're doing okay," Lisa answered. She kicked her legs in a way I was sure would piss Shirou off if he could see it. "Honestly, I'm as jealous as hell. You really hit the lottery joining a team like that."

I snorted, thinking of hypnosis happy Rin and her overflowing eagerness to experiment on human subjects. Shirou, I'll admit, wasn't bad. Quiet. But I enjoyed our patrols together. Saber? For all that she beat the hell out of me on a regular basis, I couldn't bring myself to hate her for it.

"I'm not so sure about that," I said to myself.

"You've got to be shitting me," Lisa rebuked. "Taylor, do you not realize how good you have it? And I'm not just talking about this house. You've known those three for all of two days and they're already willing to kill to protect you. Hell, Rin was willing to do it when she knew you for all of two minutes."

I winced. With all my current frustrations, it was easy to forget that I owed Rin my life. For all her flaws, Rin was a genuine hero. There was no question about that.

"Rin... isn't all that she seems."

And just as importantly, if Rin wasn't what she seemed, what did that say about the others?

"Rin is worried about you and wants to see you thrive," Lisa countered bluntly. "Seriously, Taylor, don't fuck this up."

"She hypnotized me," I groused, feeling defensive.

Lisa sighed. "Taylor, Rin and the others came from another world. They have a different culture and different rules. What's a big deal to us means nothing to them. In fact, that was something I wanted to talk to you about. Do you know the unwritten rules?"

I frowned. I had heard hints about _the rules_ while studying capes on the net. On some level, everyone knew them. But for all that they were understood I could recall at least a dozen cases where they had been broken entirely.

"No killing. No unmasking a cape. Everyone stands together in a truce. But does anyone actually do that?"

"For the most part, yes," Lisa answered. "Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of capes that cross the line – Lung, Oni Lee, Heartbreaker... Bitch – but even when they do, they make an effort not to stray too far.

"And that right there is the problem. Rin, Shirou, and Saber? They're not from this world. They didn't grow up watching cape fights on TV. They don't know what lines you don't cross and how far is too far. Those three, they work on a completely different paradigm. And that, Taylor, is dangerous."

 _To be a magus is to walk with death._

"They're killers," I said. I wished I could feel more doubtful.

"No, they're fucking heroes," Lisa said, exasperated. "But, in their world, being a hero and being a killer is practically the same thing. They're the good guys. Don't mistake them for the Slaughter House Nine – even if their body counts are similar."

Way to win an argument, Lisa. Was hearing that supposed to make me feel better? I mean, how the hell was I supposed to react when she compared Unit 09's number of kills to that of the Slaughter House Nine?

Given Lisa's expression, it seemed I failed to hide my distaste.

Lisa sighed then hopped off the counter. Her smile was weak.

"I told you already Taylor, those three are heroes. Not a single one of them wouldn't die to make the world a better place. Which is why you need to rein those three in."

"Wait. You want me to make sure they stick to the unwritten rules?" I said with disbelief. "Lisa, I have been active as a cape for less than a week. I barely know the unwritten rules."

"Yes, but you grew up on Earth Bet. You know how a cape fight is supposed to go down. More importantly, they'll listen to you. So, when you catch them about to do something that strikes you as wrong, _tell them_. Because otherwise-"

Lisa suddenly stopped and glanced over her shoulder. I followed her gaze to find her staring at very unhappy looking Shirou. She raised her hands defensively.

"We didn't break anything."

"The counters are not for sitting on," Shirou admonished.

"How did you- That's bullshit. Pure bullshit," Lisa complained

Shirou's deep frown remained. Steel gray eyes ran over every cabinet and counter, checking to ensure nothing had been marred. I watched nervously, hoping I had not pissed off the cook.

"Thank you for cleaning the dishes," Shirou said softly. "But, in the future, please don't enter the kitchen without me. For me, it is somewhat of a sacred place."

I let out a breath of relief. I could understand not wanting other people in my 'me' places. "I'll keep that in mind."

Shirou offered a friendly smile then herded us into the drawing room. Once there, Shirou lifted the cardboard box that had been stuffed in a corner yesterday and returned it to the knee high table. Understanding what this was about, I took a seat on the sofa. Lisa remained standing, resting her weight on the back of an ornate chair.

"I'm about to start Taylor's lesson," Shirou said, looking at the blonde. "You are welcome to sit in if you like."

"Ugh," Lisa grimaced. "I want to, but I have a thing with the Undersiders this afternoon and Brian will kill me if I show up with a Thinker headache. How about this: I listen in and, if you see me run out of the room screaming ' _La-La-La_ ', nobody says anything. Okay?"

Shirou adopted an amused smirk. "I will try to make things interesting then."

"You're a horrible person," Lisa accused. She flashed a vulpine smile. "But I'll forgive anything for tomorrow's breakfast."

Shirou chuckled. I, on the other hand, fixated on something else.

"A _thing_?" I asked. I narrowed my eyes. "You don't mean a crime, do you?"

Lisa wagged a finger. "Now, now, Taylor. You can't expect a terrible villain to reveal her evil plot until she's in the midst of it."

I tried to give Lisa a good hard glare, but my stifled snicker ruined the act. It was hard to hate the girl and, with Shirou refusing to press her on her crimes, I didn't feel the need to do so either.

I suppose it made sense. Unit 09 and the Undersiders were allies of a sort, after all.

"The lesson," Shirou pressed, calling our attention.

Shirou reached into the box and withdrew a pair of candles.

"What I'm going to teach you today are some of the most basic mysteries you will learn as a magus: Structural Analysis and Reinforcement."

"Uhm," I noised, suddenly feeling a little worried. "Rin only mentioned Reinforcement. Won't two mysteries be too much?"

"No," Shirou countered bluntly. "Rin is a genius. She might have the absurd talent required to reinforce an object blind, but an ordinary student must understand the item first. To learn one mystery, you must learn the other. The skills go hand and hand."

I nodded. Seeing that I accepted, Shirou flipped a candle in his hand. He held it out for a moment, allowing our eyes to be drawn to the stick.

Then he smashed it against the table's metal edge. _Clonk._ Red wax snapped, sending crumbled bits skittering across the glass surface.

"Reinforcement enhances the attributes an object, making it more of what it already is. The most basic function of this is an increase in durability," Shirou explained. Glowing lines spread in a spiderweb across the second candle. Like the first, he slammed it into the table's side, this time evoking a metallic _clang_. "However, the secondary effects of Reinforcement are far more potent."

Shirou placed the reinforced candle on the glass table along with an unmodified third. With a flick of his wrist, he created a steel lighter from thin air then lit both candles. The flame on the reinforced candle roared twice as tall and thrice as bright as that of its brethren.

"Oh, you have _got_ to be shitting me."

I turned toward Lisa, raising a brow. Yeah, it was an impressive parlor trick. But, compared to the cape powers out there, this was pretty damn minor.

"You see that right there, Taylor? That is complete and utter bullshit," Lisa complained, jabbing an accusing finger at the instrument. "Reinforcement improves an object's function. Stronger guns. Sharper swords. Tougher armor. Oh. Oh, there is no fucking way. _Strength?_ You can use it to enhance _strength?_ You're telling me _that_ was how Rin was hopping across buildings? Bullshit _._ And she was using it to improve her night vision too, wasn't she? And her reflexes. And-"

Lisa winced and slapped a hand over her eyes. She held up a forestalling limb. "Okay. I just hit my limit for the day. Please don't say anything while I run upstairs and hide in the bedroom."

Lisa danced out of the room, humming to herself with her hands planted over her ears. I watched her retreat with a wry smile then focused on the redhead.

"Can reinforcement really do all that?"

"Yes," Shirou answered, snuffing the flames with his fingers. "However, when improperly reinforced, the mystery causes objects to break. I think it would be better for the two of us if the things breaking are candles and not your internal organs."

… And Rin used this power on herself? Suddenly, I had a much better understanding of the words: _to be a magus is to walk with death_.

"Yeah. Let's stick with candles for now. How do I go about this?"

-oOo-

" _Beenden._ _"_ My second circuit shut off. " _Anfang_ _A_ _der._ " My third circuit lit afire. I concentrated, directing a flow of prana through my hand. The mystic energy infiltrated a long sticked candle, spider webs spreading with a pale glow.

Information flowed back.

Long. Cylindrical. Wax. A thread wick made the candle's core, slightly off center. _All_ _of_ _w_ _hich I_ _already knew_. Honestly, I wasn't confident I was executing the spell – _m_ _ystery –_ correctly. The impressions I picked up were faint and vaporous, like faded dreams. It was hard to be certain the knowledge was real.

I persisted in my efforts anyway, driven by the forlorn hope that I would get better.

I held the prana in place a moment longer, but my crude attempt at Structural Analysis failed to provide greater insight. _Anfang_ _A_ _der._ I moved on to the next step, repeating my aria silently in my head. My web of prana tightened.

Reinforcement. The mystery did not so much require more energy as it did greater force. The trick was applying the correct amount in the proper way. If Shirou were to be believed, there would be a resonance when I got it right. A harmonic note.

The candle cracked.

I, apparently, was the magical equivalent of tone deaf.

I let out an exasperated groan and shoved the fragments toward the growing mountain of waxy bits.

"Patience," Shirou advised, softly. "Reinforcement requires a precision that can only be achieved with practice. There is no shame in failure."

I gave Shirou a flat eyed glare. When he proved impervious, I reached into the cardboard box for my next victim. After flailing around for a moment, I tilted my head to glance inside.

Empty.

"That was the last one."

The redhead snapped his book closed and set it on the corner table.

"Then you are free until lunch. Put the pieces in the box for now. I'll melt the wax and reform the candles later."

I frowned, looking at my shattered mountain. "Can't you use a repair spell or something?"

Shirou's lips quirked.

"No. Repair magic works by restoring the object's recollection of self. If you had destroyed those candles by any other means, even an inept magus could restore them. But the bursting of the object's conceptual framework creates a fracture someone of my ability cannot resolve."

I paused, thought about what Shirou said, then promptly decided I had heard enough thaumaturgic theory for the day. If it couldn't be repaired, then it couldn't be repaired. Satisfied with that, I brushed the waxy bits into the cardboard box, grimacing at the discolored smears left on the glass table top.

Hopefully, Rin or Shirou had an easy way to clean that up.

Shirou suddenly smirked. "You know, when Rin was first learning Reinforcement, she trained on gas lamps."

Gas lamps? I glanced across the mass of failures I had produced. "Wouldn't that be really expensive?"

"Yes," Shirou affirmed. "And to make matters worse, her guardian, Kirei Kotomine, forced her to replace the broken lamps using her own allowance. You should have seen Rin's face when she learned how they taught Reinforcement at the Clock-"

"Shirou."

A deadly whisper cut across the room. A fully alert Rin hovered in the doorway, her cheeks fiery red. I swore I saw steam billowing from her ears.

"Good morning, Rin," Shirou greeted politely. "I'm glad to see you're awake."

"Shirou," Rin growled again. She stomped forward, hands curled into fists. "I thought I told you to never share that story with anyone."

"Oh?" Shirou sounded innocently. "It must have slipped my mind."

Rin's eyes flattened. Suddenly she vaulted across the room, arms extended to throttle the redhead. Shirou danced to the side, evading the blow cleanly. Bouncing back lightly, the redhead slid into the attached hall. A red faced Rin pursued.

"Come back here and take your beating like a man!"

I snorted out stifled laughter then resumed shoveling wax into the box.

The shouting voices trailed off, escaping upstairs as Shirou retreated. The front door creaked open. Saber moved through the house. She stopped at the entrance to the drawing room, a bound bulk of folders tucked under her right arm.

"Rin is awake," she observed.

"Yeah. She got up a few minutes ago," I replied. A thud sounded from above. I snorted then turned my attention back to the stern blonde. Nodding toward the bundle, I asked, "Doing a bit of research?"

"That is correct. I have discussed your scholastic record with your teachers. In return, they have provided samples of your work," Saber confirmed. "On that matter, Taylor, if there is anything I should note, it would be best to speak it now."

I choked.

Saber was holding my homework. My guts curdled at the sight. Thanks to the trio, my grades over the last year were terrible. Sophia had made a game of destroying my assignments. That, and the constant disruptions, had ruined my work. It had been bad enough bearing my teacher's looks of disappointment. Having my own team do the same? That would be a hundred times worse.

What was I supposed to do? How could I explain this? To say why my grades fell, I would have to mention the bullying. Poor little picked on Taylor. A nobody. A joke. The girl that never stood up. Not a hero. Not anything. I hated it. I had run away from it. I was supposed to be free.

"You have naught to fear, Taylor, for I shall judge you solely upon what I see with my own eyes," Saber interrupted.

Somehow that broke the panic. Dizzily, I wondered why. If it had been Rin or Shirou, I was certain that them _suspecting_ would make things worse. Instead, Saber made me feel calm.

But that did not make things easy.

With a sick smile, I told the truth.

"I, uh, have fallen a bit behind on my grades recently," I confessed with a grimace.

Saber nodded. "I see. And will this error impede future progress?"

" _No_ ," I growled with sudden anger. I let out a breath. "I understand the material fine. I just failed to complete the assignments. Let's leave it at that, okay?"

"Then we shall proceed as you state," Saber said, serenely accepting my words. "That brings me to a failing of my own. In consideration of your curriculum, I have discovered that there is subject on which I lack the proficiency to teach."

Well, it was ridiculous that Saber thought she can teach me everything in the first place. I shook my head.

"I can self study if I need to," I told her. "Which class are we talking about?"

"I believe the subject is called... _art_."

I laughed. Art? Really? Saber looked away. My chuckles petered off when I caught glimpse of her red tinged cheeks. Was Saber... embarrassed?

I suddenly felt bad for her.

"We can skip that one if you want," I offered lamely. "Art is not strictly necessary for a well rounded education."

 _Dee-dop._

Whatever Saber was going to say next was interrupted by her phone. The blonde glanced at the broad, rectangular device, a slight frown marring her solemn visage. Saber's thumb blurred, pounding out an answer to the unknown message.

"Rin. Shirou," Saber stated. "An issue has come up."

Saber's commanding tone echoed throughout the estate. Loud, but not deafening. Clear. Commanding. Rin and Shirou appeared as though summoned. Rin's hair was frazzled while Shirou clutched his side. Their slight smiles betrayed the playful nature of their fight.

That joy was quickly smothered by seriousness.

Shirou spoke first. "What happened?"

Saber angled the screen of her smart phone so all three of us could see.

 _ **Tt** – Nd Hlp; BrocBnk Cntrl.  
 **Caliburn** – How long can you hold?  
 **Tt** – 30m. Bt pls cm qck._

I slapped a palm over my face. "Don't tell me she's robbing the bank."

Lisa had told me she was plotting a crime all of four hours ago. At the time, I had let it go. After so long, it had been nice to hang with a girl my age. I had not wanted to ruin that. So, at Shirou's cue, I let it go.

But now she wanted us to _help?_

"That seems likely," Saber confirmed. "What is our resolution?"

I frowned and scrutinized the group. Rin was tapping her chin in thought, while Shirou leaned against the wall, arms folded. The redhead gave a clear impression that he did not give a shit. I glowered at both of them. I had signed up to be a hero dammit!

"Why ask?" I said hotly. "We agreed to assist them with the gangs, not the authorities. This is on their head."

Saber accepted my words with a cool nod then turned to the others.

After a moment, Shirou spoke. "Who are they fighting?"

Saber flipped her phone back around then hammered out a text faster than a gossiping school girl. There was a brief pause. _D_ _ee-d_ _op_ _._ Another machine gun burst of words. Then- _D_ _ee-d_ _op_ _._

 _ **Caliburn** – Who are your opponents?  
 **Tt** – Wrds  
 **Caliburn** – You realize this is a violation of the terms of our agreement  
 **Tt** – I knw. ++$_

Shirou nodded. "Is anyone hurt?"

 _ **Caliburn** – Are there civilian casualties?  
 **Tt** – Cp ft. Hstgs. No bld. Bn gd. Promis._

 _Hstgs?_ Wait. Did she mean _hostages_? In what world did that qualify as having _been good_? I ground my teeth. Anger? Frustration? Regret? I ate breakfast beside Lisa this morning. I wished I had... what? Punched her in the face? Talked her out of it?

Shit.

While I wallowed in a storm of emotions, Shirou reached his decision.

"As long as no one was hurt, I'm fine with intervening."

I jerked. "We aren't considering this are we?" I asked. "If we help the Undersiders rob a bank, the PRT will label us villains."

"A hero is someone who saves people," Shirou countered.

"I know that," I shot back. "But we aren't talking about plain people here, we are talking about criminals. Criminals with a crime in progress."

Shirou frowned. "Taylor, do you believe that Lisa has done something so terrible that she is unworthy of being saved?"

I thought of the freckled blonde, her teasing smile, the way she told me to stick with my team. I shook my head. "No, but-"

"Then there is no reason not to save her," Shirou said simply.

That was... I didn't understand. I couldn't understand. Shirou's words made logical sense, but his priorities were all wrong. In a way, I liked his argument, but it was not because it was rational. I liked it because, well, I enjoyed hanging with Lisa, and I didn't want that to end.

But that was a selfish feeling. Couldn't Shirou see that? There was a difference between an innocent and a criminal. Helping the Undersiders was wrong. They were robbing a bank. Taking hostages. Scaring people half to death.

How could we protect people like that?

"What about the hostages? Are we not supposed to give a fuck about them?"

"Lisa is in danger," Shirou explained. "And we can save the hostages at the same time."

"Taylor, though your contention has reason, Shirou will not shift in his conviction. It is his desire to protect those he can, whenever he can, and I can find no shame in that intent," Saber interrupted.

The diminutive blonde closed her eyes in solemn preponderance.

"It would be my preference to refrain from intervention. To avert justice is to impinge my knightly honor. However, I dislike turning away from from those who plead for my protection, no matter their worth. As such, I am willing to yield on my stance so long as our aid comes at the cost of reparations sufficient to see the Undersiders suitably chastised."

I grimaced. All eyes turned toward Rin. The dark haired woman gave us a disbelieving look.

"Of course we intervene. I can't afford to lose Lisa now," Rin said flippantly. Hard, blue eyes focused on me. "That's not going to be a problem, is it Taylor?"

"No."

I was the junior member of the team, and I had been outvoted three-to-one. To be fair, I was not nearly as unhappy with the result as I'd been expecting.

Scared and nervous? Hell yes. Unhappy? No. I guess it said a lot about me that, deep down, I wanted to protect the people I knew before the people I did not.

I wondered if that made me a bad person.

"Then I shall relay a satisfactory reparation."

Saber's fingers flew over the keyboard, typing out her demand. Lisa's first message came moments later. It took two minutes before we saw the second.

 _ **Caliburn** – We will provide assistance, but remuneration shall be paid in a term of service.  
 **Tt** – :( Will tlk w/others  
 **Tt** – G says k, neg when sf?_

 _Fu-fu-fu_. Rin let out a low laugh, her hand splayed over her face, covering her evil grin. Shirou looked satisfied and Saber was as stoic as ever. I let out a tense breath and calmed myself. It was decided. Instead of wasting time fighting the inevitable, it was best to put things in order while we could.

"Okay, but if we do this we do it right," I said. "Masks. Costumes. Secret identities. The works."

A smug smile formed on Shirou's lips. Rin flashed the redhead an annoyed look.

"I am not budging on my policy. No masks. No capes. I finally got past that superhero phase of yours, and I will be damned before I see any back sliding," Rin said, tapping an angry foot. Then she offered an apologetic smile. "No offense, Taylor, but if I give him an inch, Shirou will be running around in spandex."

Saber nodded wisely. "When it comes to such matters, Shirou must be guided with a firm hand. And I, likewise, must refuse a disguise. To wear one while doing such deeds would violate the code of knightly honor."

… I pinched my nose, nursing a headache. What was I supposed to say in response to that?

"We will treat it as a black mission then," Rin decided in a snap. "Full informational suppression. Code names?"

"Archer," Shirou declared instantly.

"Saber remains sufficient," Saber added.

"I will use Caster, of course," Rin said, nodding in approval. "Taylor?"

What? They wanted me to pick a cape name _now_? How did we even switch to that conversation? I flailed in a mental panic. Names. Names. How was I supposed to come up with a _name?_ I dredged through my memory and found nothing. This was not the first time the idea crossed my mind. I had tried looking up a name before, but finding one that was not outright villainous or taken was virtually impossible.

In desperation, I played for time.

"You can't use Saber, that's the same name you use as civilian." That, and it was as rare as all hell. Someone was sure to notice. Like, say, _my Dad_. "And I'm pretty sure Archer and Caster are already taken."

"Taken? What does that have to do with anything?" Rin asked, giving me a confused look. "But she does have a point about you, Saber."

Saber turned away from the brunette in a brusque huff. "Saber is the name I was granted by the grail. It is more than sufficient."

"What about Arturia?" Rin teased, sliding up next to the blonde. "Or you, if you want, you can use Aria for short. Hmm? How about it, Aria-chan?"

Saber's gaze flicked toward me. "Taylor has yet to provide her code name."

All eyes fell on me. I shrank under their gaze.

"I... uh... haven't decided on a cape name yet," I confessed quietly.

"Given her power set, Assassin would be a fine fit," Shirou said.

Thanks Shirou. I hit the redhead with a nasty glare which only served to draw a smirk. Assassin was _exactly_ the kind of name I was trying to avoid. If I was going for something like that, I may as well pick Plague or Pestilence.

"Her use of insects would not be outside the range of abilities utilized by a magus," Saber observed. "If Rin were to switch to Lancer, Taylor could claim Caster."

"No," Rin countermanded, sounding miffed. "Caster belongs to the best user of magecraft."

Rin, I sensed, was more than a little proud of her choice.

Shit. I needed a name. But, if I couldn't choose one with weeks of research, how could I possible pick one now. Wait? Did it have to be associated with bugs? Rin said my element was information. Maybe I could go with that?

Lets see... Data? Intelligence? Insight? No. Those names would work great for a Thinker, but I would sound like an idiot if I used them as a Master. I needed a name that implied control. Hmm... Commander? Director? ...Administrator?

Administrator. I liked it Administrator. It rang true to me.

But using it, even in my head, felt pretentious.

Something not quite so over the top then.

Keeper? Custodian? I grimaced. Custodian was definitely bad. If I called myself Custodian people would mistake me for a janitor. Keeper, on the other hand, had promise. Especially if I started using bees heavily. I would keep that one in mind.

Supervisor? Overseer?

I stopped.

Oh. That was perfect.

I oversaw my bugs. Controlling them. But the name subtly conveyed the deeper nature of my power. Spying. Watching. Over _seeing_ in the most literal sense. I liked it. But a nugget wiggled in my heart. It was too perfect. If I used the name Overseer, my enemies might clue in on the fact that I could spy with my bugs.

Maybe if I put a little twist on it?

"... no matter how you look at it Berserker and Rider don't-"

"Overmind," I said. "My name is Overmind."

-oOo-

It took twenty minutes to finish our preparations and move out. We gathered on a roof overlooking the entrance to the Brockton Bay Central Bank. The bank itself was a castle. It was an intimidating six story structure decorated with battlements and stone gargoyles. The Wards were gathered in the street below, lined up in front of the bank's wide stone stairs. A pair of armored PRT trucks secured the road, their troopers ready to assist.

" _Trace on."_

Shirou's echoing voice drew my attention to the allies at my side. I was happy to say they had costumes of sorts. Shirou's – _Archer's_ , I reminded myself – consisted of armored leathers. Black, ceramic plates covered his chest and vitals, while an ashen gray coat was thrown over his shoulders. Around his legs was an odd half-kilt of the same color, looking like an aborted cape.

I had to admit, it looked pretty cool. I could only hope my costume met his standard.

My eyes shifted to Caster.

A crimson shroud was thrown over Caster's shoulders, looking like a frayed shawl. The garment was clipped in front by a gold and ruby clasp. Caster's belly was exposed, revealing the same, form fitting, armor worn by Archer. The dark ceramic ended at a ruffled, red skirt. Her leggings were tight leather which conformed to her curves perfectly.

Unlike Archer, Caster was heavily armed. A spear of rust red metal rested against her left shoulder, the haft twisted with embossed vines. A heavy, leather belt circled her waist, covered with bladeless hilts. A utility bag hung over her right hip, no doubt filled with magical tools and precious gems.

" _... brechen einzuschließen und zu verdunkeln...,"_ Caster chanted.

Between them, Caster and Archer held a ceremonial dagger with two blades conjoined around a central hilt. The dagger's cross guards stretched forward, curved brass enclosing half the greater blade.

Caster stepped back. The joined hilt split in two, leaving behind twin knives.

" _I am the bone of my sword,"_ Archer intoned in thickly accented English.

Odd. Archer's engrish drew my attention because I knew he could speak more clearly. His mystery took hold. The ceremonial dagger in Archer's hand stretched, molding into a thinly bladed staff. With a sharp motion, Archer drove the weapon a hand span into the concrete roof.

" _Teilen."_ Caster's copy of the dagger shattered in four. _"Verwandeln."_ The four partitions twisted into arrows. Caster passed the projectiles into Archer's hands. Finally, the dark haired woman turned toward me.

"We clear?"

The Undersiders had covered the bottom floor of Brockton Bay Central Bank in inky darkness. The black cloud stretched out the bank's main doors, reaching half way to the gathered Wards. I couldn't see anything through it. My bugs, however, were perfectly capable of determining what was on the other side. And, with ten minutes of preparation, I had pulled together quite the swarm.

"The Undersiders are in the front lobby. They have around fifty hostages, no injuries. Panacea is inside. She took down one of Hellhound's dogs two minutes ago, but the Undersiders have things back under control," I said, electing to use Bitch's PC name.

Panacea was one of New Wave's capes. An independent hero with the ability to heal wounds at a touch. Apparently her power could do a lot more than that, because Panacea had laid out one of Bitch's mini-van sized monsters in an instant.

Luckily, the Undersiders stepped in before chaos could break out. Panacea was down on the ground, hands over her head. The hostages remained in place. But I could sense the tension. Bitch was raving loud enough that I could hear it through my bugs. Grue was shouting back, voice raised to a volume that made me wince. I adjusted my power, tuning out sound. I might have picked up bits of human speech during the Lung fight, but I would be a fool to risk a headache trying to relearn it now.

"That explains Glory Girl's presence," Saber observed. "What are the chances she will intervene?"

"Given she hasn't ripped through the roof already, I'm guessing she doesn't have a clue what is going on inside. When we start?" I shrugged. "All bets are off."

"Good. If Glory Girl is willing to hold off, there is no need to adjust our plans," Caster stated. She glanced across the group. "Everyone ready?"

"Yes."

I tried to sound confident. In truth, I was not even close to being ready.

Archer nodded an affirmative.

"Overmind, have you procured a side arm?" Saber interrupted.

With a jolt, I realized Saber was talking to me. It was weird hearing my cape name. "No. I never got a chance to make it out."

No sooner did I speak than did Archer hand me a knife.

I took it. The weapon was old, pock marked by scrubbed rust with a blade an inch longer than my hand. Japanese kanji were engraved in the hilt, completely unreadable for an American like me. I tucked the knife into a loop on my belt, thankful for all the pockets I had the foresight to install.

"Then we shall proceed," Saber said firmly. "Overmind, inform us when Caster is in position."

"Good hunting," Caster said cheerfully.

She dropped off the roof, falling four stories into an alleyway. Upon hitting the ground, her only reaction was a half second pause before on onward rush at a superhuman pace.

Tattletale had it right. Reinforcement? Pure bullshit.

While Caster circled around to approach the bank from the back, Archer formed a long bow in his left hand. With smooth shots, he sent a trio of arrows arching across the skyline. The projectiles punched into distant rooftops, each approximately one block from our position.

Silently, the others waited. The final call was on me.

"Go."

Archer fired the last arrow straight into the air. _"Varja."_

The sky exploded into sheets of shimmering light.

 _Ka-BOOM!_

Three bolts of lightning smashed down with thunderous force. Writhing electricity held for a moment, chains suspended from heaven. Then the snakes spread from arrow to arrow, stretching across the horizon to form a scintillating pyramid of chaotic plasma.

The world dimmed.

Light poured down as though passing through tinted glass. Pins and prickles swept across my skin, and all my little hairs stood on end. The city shut down. In the surrounding offices, lights blinked out. Phones and hand-held game systems went silent. Within the scope of the bounded field, electricity ceased to flow.

Everything happened at once.

My swarm sprang to life. Clouds of insects poured from walls and dumpsters while nightmarish curtains of crawlers seethed out of sewers and storm drains. Gnats, moths, and flies were mixed with bees, wasps, and hornets. I did not bother focusing on types. I grabbed everything I could.

My natural inclination was to concentrate my army. On their own, bugs were weak. It took an incredible mass of insects to accomplish anything. But in this battle, my role was support. Caster, Archer, and Saber were strong enough to defeat any cape Brockton Bay could throw at them. My job was to make that victory certain.

So I attacked everyone.

The smallest fliers went for ears and eyes. Hordes of gnats swarmed toward the organs where they were exposed and smeared themselves on glasses and lenses where they were not. My larger winged beetles served as air support, ferrying smaller crawlers into the fray. Ants, earwigs, and centipedes rained down on costumes and uniforms. The creepy critters skittered over cloth, squeezed into tiny gaps, then attacked naked flesh.

As one, the Wards shrieked in horror.

That was when Saber hit them from above.

Saber was not so much a blur as a streak. She flashed down the building's side, running across glass as though it were ground. Her first victim did not even have the chance to turn. _TONG!_ The flat of Saber's invisible blade crashed into the first Ward – Clockblocker, judging by the clocks covering his white suit – with enough force to send him hurtling into a brick wall.

Concrete caved. I cringed. Fuck, I hoped he wasn't dead.

The second cape – wearing rust red, and whose name I could not remember – had enough time to raise his arms before Saber kicked him in the chest with an armored boot. It was more a push than a strike, but the overwhelming force was enough to send the teenager tumbling down the street.

Saber turned toward the large, muscled boy in blue.

The Wards struggled to react.

Kid Win – a minor Tinker – was all but helpless. Between my bugs, Caster's bounded field, and his grounded hoverboard, he was already out of the fight. The Ward at his side – in the gunmetal power armor – fared better, firing off a chain of colored blasts.

For all the good it did him.

There was an absoluteness to a Brute. A Master could attack from anywhere. A Blaster threatened all who were exposed. A Thinker could change tactics in an instant. Brutes, however, were special. Their presence was tyrannical. With any other cape, there was hope. No matter how overwhelming the power, it was always possible to win. One good shot and I would go down. Hell, slip in a lucky bullet and Eidolon would die.

A Brute? If you didn't have the right cape or the right weapon, you might as well pack your bags and go home.

In that respect, Saber was the single most terrifying Brute in Brockton Bay.

"Trump!"

I don't know who shouted, but I could feel the palpable fear. The colored beams of light fired by the gunmetal cape dissolved into motes. Saber didn't so much as acknowledge the attack as she smashed the muscled Ward upside the head without bothering to dodge.

For an instant, it looked as though the enemy would crumble. Then the PRT trucks opened fire with twin streams of containment foam. Either Saber had eyes on the back of her head, or she was just that damn good. Whatever the case, the diminutive blonde danced to the side, neatly evading the expanding substance.

 _Th-thunk!_ A pair of sword buried themselves hilt deep into the armored turrets, bringing the newest threat to an abrupt end.

Archer criss-crossed the rooftops, bow in hand. With the speed of a machine gun and the precision of a skilled sniper, he shot arrows into the group. Kid Win's pistols were torn from his hands before he could even think to fire. A haft caught a gap in Gunmetal's armor, freezing a leg in place. Other arrows streaked toward PRT agents, forcing them into cover or obliterating their weapons with a single hit.

In response, a tiny girl – green visor and wavey skirt – gestured. The air two stories up twisted, distorting as though it were a carnival mirror. Archer's exacting aim was quite literally scattered into the four winds. Mentally, I upgraded her to a priority target and readied my reserves.

Then a greater danger made itself apparent.

 _Crunch._ Heavy boots, wrapped in crackling white energy crashed into the pavement. Dauntless, with his golden spartan helm and giant shield, entered the fray. Velocity flickered onto the field a moment behind. One blink, he was standing next to the Ward in rust red. The next, the staggered Ward was kneeling at Dauntless's feet.

And if that were not bad enough, Clockblocker had finally pulled himself from the broken brick wall and was now flying–

Wait. Clockblocker couldn't fly. So who the hell was that? And for fuck's sake, someone should tell the Wards to stick to a theme.

Shaking my head free from the distraction, I sent my reserves against Velocity, forming a closing ring of hornets, wasps, bees, and spider laden moths. These were the heaviest and nastiest critters I had at hand, held at bay for an instant assault. As direct threats went, Velocity was the least. Though Velocity was member of local Protectorate, his power amounted to little more than the ability to move fast. But if Unit 09 was to remain unknown, I could not allow a single witness to escape.

Thus Velocity had to go down, hard.

The chaos outside the bank was matched by the chaos within. Caster, Grue, and Bitch were in the front lobby along with Glory Girl and Panacea. From the way Grue was yelling and that fact that Bitch's dogs were as quick to attack Caster as Glory Girl, I got the impression that the Undersiders had a falling out. A flick of my perspective toward Tattletale and Regent indicated the cause. The two supervillians were inside the bank vault _returning_ their ill gotten gains.

While Grue hunted Bitch in a cloud of darkness, Caster was caught in the midst of a three-way bash. Bitch's two standing dogs were bulldozing through the center of the bank lobby, alien monstrosities of bone, claw and tooth. Caster cavorted amongst them, sliding around a one-eyed, one-eared monster. Her spear whirled, metal haft catching the creature in the ribs with enough force to send it rolling.

With a breath of space to spare, Caster twisted, sighting with her arm as though she were a holding gun. Glory Girl reacted, kicking one of Bitch's dogs aside before flying straight at the dark haired Asian. Inky bullets hit the tall blonde, shattering like water on her skin. Glory Girl threw a heavy punch, Caster dodged under it with an almost lazy ease, then slammed the butt of her spear into Glory Girl's gut hard enough to fold the flying cape in half.

While Glory Girl choked on air, Caster whirled her weapon in a great arc. The one-eyed dog smashed into Caster's side before the attack could complete, bowling Caster over. Woman and beast tumbled across the ground, at least until Caster got her feet in position and promptly kicked the alien monstrosity straight up through the ceiling.

I took the opportunity to dump a wave of cockroaches from the rafters.

Glory Girl and Bitch's second dog were drenched in a torrent of crawling insects. Bugs and beetles bit down on every inch of exposed skin. Glory Girl howled, jerking chaotically in the air before smashing into a wall. Then a sudden, paper thin layer sprang up from her skin, repelling my insects. The demon dog fared better, thrashing its head angrily, but otherwise ignoring the assault. The creature's clawed feet dug into tile as it prepared to charge.

Panacea, a mousey looking girl with frizzy brown hair, dashed across the room to exploit the opening. I opened a tunnel in my swarm for her, mostly because her attack advantaged me more than it did her. She reached Bitch's second dog before it could build up speed. A single tap on its head, and the alien being dropped like a puppet with cut strings.

Panacea had an instant to admire her success before Caster gunned her down with gandr.

An enraged Glory Girl charged. At the same time, Bitch's one-eyed dog dropped back down into the bank lobby. I set my bugs to debilitate then withdrew my human mind because I suddenly had a much more immediate problem to deal with.

Namely, Armsmaster had ascended to my rooftop.

Did I mention how much I hate rooftops?

On my first night night out, I got trapped on a roof with Lung, and we all know how that ended. The trauma had stuck. I had expressed my concerns to Unit 09 when prepping for the mission, but all three of them had relayed that they could move me to the ground easily. Of course, that did me a whole lot of good when none of them were around to help.

Which meant I was trapped up here with Armsmaster, the strongest cape in the local Protectorate.

I fucking hate rooftops.

Armsmaster's grappling hook wound its way back into his halberd with a sharp _clank_. The superhero glanced across the roof, eyes flicking past me to stop on the lightning staff thing Archer had jammed into the concrete. Sparks flew from the weapon's orb-like hilt, spindles of lightning discharging into the pyramidal field above.

Slowly, I reached for my belt and drew my baton.

Armsmaster's gaze flicked toward me. "Surrender. Any act of resistance will be held against you in the court of law."

Shit, I cursed mentally. Armsmaster was decked out in midnight blue power armor, with all the nooks and crannies sealed. My knife and baton would do nothing to him. The only hope I had was his opened faced helmet and the slim chance that Saber and Archer would clean up the capes below in the next few minutes.

I pulled what little of my swarm was available. Most of my insects were down below and I did not want to draw off my stronger fliers when I almost had Velocity cornered. My only choice was to play for time.

My mouth went dry. I licked my lips, thankful that my mask hid my nervousness.

"We don't have to fight. The Undersiders are returning the money as we speak. Once we extract them, we will be on our way."

Armsmaster pointed his halberd at me. In a fraction of a second, the blade split into parts then transformed into a flail like ball. The ball shot forward as though fired from a cannon.

My heart stopped.

For a single, infinite moment, time slowed. Unbidden, my body shifted to the side. Even as I moved, I realized that it would not work. I wasn't fast enough. Already, the flail had crossed half the distance between us. Before my breath finished, it would shatter my ribs.

 _TANG!_

Time resumed. A monstrous jolt smashed through my arm. I staggered back, nearly losing grip on my baton. I stared in shock at the chain stretching out behind me. What the hell? I parried that?

"Mercenaries," Armsmaster said, his lips twisting in distaste. "Don't think I will go easy on you."

He stepped forward, swinging his halberd like a bat. The moment stretched. _Clan_ _g_ _!_ I parried again, hand going numb from the force. Armsmaster brought the head of his weapon around. I bridged back with acrobatic skill I was absolutely sure I did not possess. The retracting chain _whooshed_ over my head, rejoined the haft, then promptly unfolded into an axe.

 _Tong._

Almost effortlessly, I smashed his overhead strike aside.

Okay. Seriously. What the hell?

"Not much for conversation are you?" I said, irritated that my plan to keep him talking was not working.

Frustrated, I sent a small wave of flying critters toward Armsmaster's face. Armsmaster jumped back, his armored boots landing on the rooftop with a heavy _crunch_. A cap opened on the butt of his halberd, Armsmaster pointed the weapon at the swarm and promptly loosed a jet of flame. Armsmaster waved the column through the air several times, incinerating my army.

"Who are you?" Armsmaster demanded.

The bastard did not have the courtesy to wait for my answer before charging shoulder first. Again, the world slowed. Thoughtlessly I stepped forward, baton flowing into position. _Clang!_ Metal met metal. Instead of being blown back, I flipped up and over.

Armsmaster span, then thrust with his halberd. Motions governed by impossible grace, I twirled. _Clang_. Metal rang again, my baton pushed his halberd down. I floated up, twisting into a midair flip just in time to avoid the halberd's sudden extension.

I landed firmly on me feet.

Okay. There was no way in hell I just did that.

"You have a Thinker power," Armsmaster accused.

Yes, apparently I did. But unless I magically gained a brand new superpower in the last five minutes, something funny was going on. Having seen Archer create a lightning staff and shoot sword arrows through what amounted to a tank, I had a notion as to what that funny thing might be.

Armsmaster, however, had no way of knowing. Better yet, he had given me the perfect opening to make him hesitate.

"My name is Overmind and my team is called Unit 09," I said, answering his prior question. "I will leave you to guess the nature of my power."

There was a twinge in my awareness. One of Archer's arrows tore through Velocity's right knee. That was all it took. The Protectorate cape hit the ground. My swarm piled on, stinging and biting. I jerked them away, afraid that I would kill Velocity if they kept it up.

While Armsmaster reconsidered his approach, I took a moment to get a better grasp on the situation below.

Saber was locked in a battle between Dauntless and the flying cape in the clock faced suit. The cape in rust red – the actual Clockblocker, I now realized – was running along the edge of the fight freezing objects in midair in a vain attempt to control Saber's motion. Archer was down in the streets, standing amongst trussed up PRT agents and Kid Win. The Wards and Protectorate heroes had been trying to fight their way closer to Archer, but thus far my bugs, Saber, and Archer's own prowess had proven too much.

Now, with Velocity down, I could see hope die.

With a moment's thought, I split my bees and hornets into a pair of streams. I sent the first toward the adorable visored girl with the wave patterned skirt. I felt horrible picking on a child so young, but if I could take her out of play Archer could reclaim his place as king of the mountain. And with that, he would be in position to provide support to both Saber and me.

And I could definitely use the help.

I directed the remainder of my reserves up. The Wards and Protectorate had been reduced by two. More importantly, they had nothing on the field that could hurt Saber. Archer might not be quite as tough, but he was a monster in his own right. Those two didn't need my help.

So I reclaimed my resources.

Then I had no more time to think.

Armsmaster charged, firing the grapnel from his halberd. The three hooks folded into themselves to form a flail. Time slowed. I judged the attack, then flicked it aside with my baton, the grace of my movement hiding the finger numbing force of the deflection. _Clang_. Armsmaster shifted in mid-stride, snagging the chain with one hand, then whipping the weighted sphere around. I vaulted over the strike, then rolled to avoid his shoulder check.

Armsmaster turned, his halberd forming into a polearm twice as long as he was tall. He swung, lips pressed in clear agitation. My footing was bad. I parried. _CLANG!_ The shock of metal sounded like a cannon blast. The force of it sent me stumbling back, eyes watering from the noise.

The halberd spun in his hands. A thrust. Fast. The weapon seemed to blur as it lanced out toward my chest. I struggled to bring my baton to bear, only to discover my hand was empty.

Oh.

Fuck.

The halberd struck my arm. My arm hit my chest. Air exploded from my lungs. My ribs wobbled and popped. I felt something crack. I hit the ground, spots dancing across my eyes. Pain. I couldn't think. I couldn't breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Focus Taylor. My mind flailed. I reached out for something and pulled.

Emotions dissolved into a mass of chittering bugs. My head cleared, breathless agony replaced by a dull throb and clarity. An arm of hornets extended from the swirling swarm circling overhead. Armsmaster jumped back, flicking his polearm into its flame thrower configuration to clear the sky.

I winced as a quarter of my reserve force was incinerated.

But it gave me the moment I needed.

Dizzily, I stood. I raised my right hand toward my ribs then winced. Shit. My arm was broken. I could feel the bone shuffling beneath my skin. A deep scar had been cut into the spider silk fabric. That realization alone was enough to make my heart seize. If my costume had not been so tough. If my arm had been in the wrong place. If Armsmaster had used a little more force.

I would be dead.

When it became clear that my bugs would maintain their distance, Armsmaster shifted his halberd into its default axe form. He remained wary, probably realizing that the moment he attacked, he would leave himself open to the two-thousands wasps buzzing angrily overhead.

"You didn't dodge."

I blinked my eyes, trying to wash away the pain. It was distant. Diminished. Spread across a hundred-thousand minds. I hadn't realized that I could do that before, to outsource the pressure of my human emotions.

I stood, discretely sweeping my gaze across the roof. I found my baton at the foot of the lightning staff. A crackling tongue of energy rippled out from Archer's weapon, caressing the pyramid above.

Perhaps it was bad luck, or maybe Armsmaster read my twitch, but his head turned toward my baton. His lips creased with an indecipherable emotion.

"You have a power lender in your group."

"He goes by the name Archer," I said, fumbling for the knife Archer lent. I held it inexpertly in my left hand and prayed that the ancient looking blade would hold for a single exchange.

Armsmaster frowned. "Archer is already taken by a hero in Albuquerque."

I was guessing from Armsmaster's reaction that Archer's use of the name annoyed him. Maybe he disliked the idea of a supervillain using the same calling card as one of his fellow heroes. I had sympathy for that. I certainly would have been pissed to hell if a cape on the other side of the country was running around ruining my rep.

Archer, on the other hand, didn't give a shit.

"Try explaining that to him," I grumbled.

A sudden explosion drew my awareness to the battle below.

Glory Girl burst through the wall of Brockton Bank. She hit the ground in an uncontrolled tumble across concrete and asphalt. Skin abraded and ripped, leaving bleeding patches exposed. My eyes widened with surprise. Obviously her Brute rating was more limited than PHO implied.

The gunmetal power armored cape jerked at her presence. He took a half step in Glory Girl's direction. A mistake. That was all the gap Saber needed. In a single instant, Saber lunged. _C_ _LANG_ _!_ Her invisible sword rang against his armor, shattering the chest piece in a single blow.

Dauntless charged, shield first, trying to force Saber back. A black blade whirled through the air, flashing toward Dauntless's head. He ducked. The sword clipped the golden ridge of his helmet. Saber's sword crashed into his lance with an explosion of light. Stance already broken, Dauntless stumbled. Saber stepped forward, pressing her advantage.

The cape in the clock costume – which really ought to be Clockblocker's – struck, flying head first at the diminutive blonde in hope of disrupting her attack.

At the same time, Archer streaked forward.

The blur of black and gray hit Dauntless from the side. Archer's second sword – a blade of white – was thrust through Dauntless's shield arm. Metal morphed. The white weapon curled around Dauntless's arm, forming a limb piercing cuff.

Dauntless turned in response, struggling to bring his arc-lance around to strike. Before he could complete the motion his shield arm jerked back, pulling him of off balance. The hero fell. His back hit the ground, an invisible force dragging him across the asphalt toward Archer's first sword embedded deep in concrete.

"Dauntless is down," I said, mind returning. "It won't take long for the others to clean up the rest."

I delivered my warning, hoping it would make Armsmaster back off. His expression twisted into a nasty scowl. If anything, he looked more determined.

"Then I will just have to settle for you," he grunted.

He charged. I sent down a wave of bugs as a distraction. Armsmaster's halberd unfolded, and a column of fire cleared the air of all intruders.

The distraction made him to miss a step.

I dashed toward my baton.

I took five steps before I realized I wasn't going to make it. Armsmaster was too fast. His heavy armor hardly seemed to slow him at all. I stopped. Firmed my stance. Then prayed.

Armsmaster swung. His halberd stretched into a three meter axe that would take me in the chest.

" _Anfang Ader."_

Eight circuits blazed to life. I raised my knife to defend, pumping prana desperately in the shitty hope that my crude reinforcement would grant it the strength to hold.

A shiver swept over me.

For an instant, the world froze. Dark, shadowy lines crisscrossed everything. Faded. Illusionary. Not quite there, but striving desperately to become real. _Throb._ Knives of pain stabbed into my eyes. A terrible sense of wrongness gripped me. Then my left arm moved.

I did not attack. Instead, the knife swung me. I moved without will or thought. My arm slashed out in a silver crescent of steel. The blade struck Armsmaster's halberd in mid swing.

It did not stop.

The blade carved through Armsmaster's halberd as though it were no more than air. The head of the weapon parted from the shaft. The fragment hit me in the gut, its mass great enough to knock me off my feet. I gasped, fighting for breath. I rolled. My eyes watered from the pain. Less from the recent blow and more from the shifting of my shattered right arm.

The knife dissolved into motes of light.

I reached out with my now empty hand and gripped the hilt of my baton.

Armsmaster was frozen, eyes fixed on his broken halberd. I took advantage of his shock and sent a wave of bees at his face.

I had to give him credit. Armsmaster reacted faster than I expected. His weapon rose, unleashing a sheet of fire. But instead of blasting from the halberd's butt, the jet of flame spewed out the damaged front at a nasty angle. Armsmaster jerked, red embers whipping around his midnight armor. Then, in a single instant, he adapted, swinging his weapon in a wide arc to clear the sky.

My bugs crackled and popped, but I had not committed all my forces to a single thrust. A second and third swarm came in from his left and rear. The spears of insects curled in, winding around the roiling flame to attack. Though half-blind from fire, Armsmaster twisted his weapon to incinerate both.

And missed the haze of hornets rising from his feet.

The winged insects rose from the asphalt, hugging the curves Armsmaster's armor. Heat shed by the flames cooked half the horde, reducing their number from a hundred-and-twenty-seven to a mere forty-eight. More than enough.

The hornets reached Armsmaster's head then slipped under his open mask. Stingers struck at lips, cheeks, and brow. The insects crawled behind his ears, down his neck, and under the collar of his armor – welts rising wherever they went.

Armsmaster twitched. His lips twisted in a rictus of agony. With an armored hand, he slapped at his face. Metal bruised flesh and crushed half-a-dozen hornets. Pointless. Armsmaster's helmet defeated his own efforts, and that was ignoring all the nooks and crannies in which my insects secreted themselves.

I rolled to my feet, hissing as my right arm dangled. Silently, I prayed that Armsmaster was not allergic, because hell if I knew where I would stab my EpiPen if he was.

Armsmaster fumbled with his halberd, angled it toward his face, then unleashed a flash of fire. My insects cooked. Dead in an instant. Armsmaster turned toward me, his skin lobster red. A deep growl rose from his chest.

Armsmaster was pissed to all hell.

He lurched forward, right arm reaching back. A _second_ halberd unfolded before my very eyes.

I gulped.

 _Bang!_

A silver streak crashed into Armsmaster's helmet, fragmenting into fading splinters. His head jerked with the impulse. We both turned to look. Archer was on the roof, bow held at ready. The gray cloaked warrior stepped forward, his weapon shattering into light. Blades of white and black formed from thin air.

The redhead exploded forward.

Armsmaster jumped over the edge.

Archer stopped at the parapet, recreating his bow in a single blink. Silver streaks slashed down like heavenly bullets. I joined him a moment later, teeth clenched and breath wheezing. I arrived just in time to see Armsmaster peel away on his bike.

"Did he catch your face?" I gasped.

Shit it would suck to go this far, only to have Archer's visage pasted all over national television.

"I took out his camera with my first shot," Archer answered smoothly.

What. From all the way back there? I stared at Archer disbelieving. He had been fifty meters away – at least – when he let that arrow loose. And that was ignoring that I hadn't seen the lens of Armsmaster's camera when I had been standing right next to him.

Archer's eyes flicked toward my broken arm.

"You're hurt."

"Yeah," I confirmed. "I tried to block and fucked up. Snapped it clean in half."

Archer scrutinized me carefully. It was only after ascertaining that was my only wound that he relaxed.

"If your arm took the blow instead of your body, then you didn't fail," Archer corrected, gruffly. "The enemies below have been defeated. If you think you can handle the shock, I'll take you to the others."

"I would rather get this fixed sooner rather than later, if it's all the same to you."

Archer nodded then scooped me up bridal style. My cheeks flushed, but I focused on cradling my right arm. Once he was sure I was settled, Archer jumped. Two hard taps on the opposite wall slowed our descent. Each sent a spike of pain jolting through my frame. I let out a breath of choked relief when we touched ground.

PRT agents, Wards, and Protectorate capes were huddled together in a seated group. Hands were clipped behind backs with plastic cuffs while Caster stood over them, her eyes shedding a luminous blue. The green visored girl tried to avert her gaze, but I could see the dullness of her motion as Caster's hypnosis took hold.

Archer gestured and Saber peeled away. The stoic blonde stopped at my side, replacing Archer as my assigned guardian. The quiet redhead took that as his cue and immediately reclaimed the high ground. Saber looked me over.

"Show me your arm," she demanded.

I proffered the limb with a silent grimace. Saber gave it one glance then yanked the broken pieces apart before smashing them back together.

" _Gah!"_

Searing pain shook my vision. I trembled, mind blank to all else for a long moment. Saber patted me on the back while I whimpered.

"The pain will pass."

Blinking the tears from my eyes, I nodded. With each breath, my suffering became lighter. I leaned into Saber. Warm. Saber's presence was like a gentle, golden embrace. It took me a second to realize that it was not just a feeling, but an actual fact. Saber's power was pouring into me wherever we touched. The heavenly light flowed through my veins, softening bruises and healing wounds.

Another mystery solved, I thought dully. It was Saber who healed me that night. I felt an ugly spike of envy. Saber's power was already bullshit. Throw healing on top? That was too unfair.

I wondered why I could sense it now. Was it because my circuits were active? My skill with prana greater? Or was this the first time Saber had used her power since that night?

No. I didn't believe that. No matter how violent, I always left Saber's training sessions intact. She must have been healing me the whole time. Not that I was about to complain. My fight with Armsmaster had left a strong preference that my future ass kickings take place in the dojo rather than the street.

"You comported yourself well in this battle."

"Uhm... thanks?" I said gratefully. "But next time, I would prefer to make it out uninjured. I don't want to turn this into a habit."

Saber nodded quietly. The silence was eerie. Just minutes ago this street had been filled with fierce melee. Swords, arrows, and powers had clashed with magnificent fury. Steel ringing against steel. Desperate shouts and yells. Arcane forces unleashed with thunder and terror.

Now, the greatest noise was the background crackle of the bounded field.

How quick were extinguished the fires of war.

The front door to the bank opened.

Grue exited, Bitch thrown over his shoulder like a wet rag. The dark suited cape struggled with her weight. Bitch was by no means a small girl. Regent, Tattletale, and three dogs flanked him. The Undersiders scanned the street as they left, Regent giving a low whistle of appreciation.

"Sorry for the trouble," Grue said, motioning to the dead weight draped over his back.

Caster pulled away from the local capes. As one, the group dropped. Quiet bodies rested on asphalt, chests rising and falling in the depths of slumber.

"No problem, I'll just put it on your tab," Caster said while wearing a dangerously sweet smile.

Grue winced. Regent laughed. He made a theatrical motion of surrender.

"Well I, for one, welcome our new badass overlords."

Grue kicked him in the shin, or tried – he stumbled under Bitch's weight. Regent chuckled at his leader's plight.

Tattletale flashed her vulpine smile. It looked frail. Pained. She limped toward us, leaning heavily on her right foot. She must have taken a few hits in the fight. She would get no sympathy from me. My arm was fucking broken.

"Can't say I was expecting to walk out the front door," Tattletale quipped.

"Can't say I was expecting you to rob a bank," I shot back.

Tattletale twitched, her smile looking weaker than before.

"Sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean to drag you into this. I thought... I thought we could handle this by ourselves," she said with a sigh.

"Well, you obviously couldn't."

"Overmind," Saber warned, reminding me that this was neither the time nor the place. She nodded toward the freckled blonde. "Tattletale, is your team prepared to move out?"

Tattletale glanced over her shoulder at Grue. "Looks like we are good to go. Want to meet up at our place? That seems best considering how your house is a-"

"Death trap?" I supplied helpfully.

"That," Tattletale said, her broad smile returning in force. "We good?"

I gave her a dirty look, then huffed. "We're good. But don't think Saber and Caster won't take their pound of flesh."

-oOo-

 _ **Kris Taming Sari** [Flower Shield]  
Projected Noble Phantasm – Rank D – Anti-Weapon_

 _A long dagger once used by a champion of Majapahit named Taming Sari. The dagger later passed into the hands of the admiral Hang Tuah after the original wielder was defeated in a duel to the death. According to Malay literature, the Taming Sari is said to make the user physically invulnerable. In truth, the dagger's powers are far less than stated._

 _Taming Sari passively grants its wielder the D rank skill Protection from Weapons and raises the wielder's agility by one rank, but only when defending. When used offensively, Taming Sari's effectiveness is reduced, causing it to function as an E classed Noble Phantasm._

 _ **Protection from Weapons  
** Skill – Rank D_

 _As long as the defender is aware of the assailant's strike, this skill greatly increases the chance of defending against that attack. At this level the act of evasion or deflection is not absolute, especially when set against opponents of great speed, strength, or ability._

 _ **Nanatsu-Yoru** [Seven Nights]  
Projected Noble Phantasm – Rank E – Anti-Unit_

 _An ancient dagger used by the Nanaya clan. The dagger itself possesses no special powers. However, its use by Tohno Shiki made the weapon famous as a blade that can cut through anything._

 _When activated with prana, the weapon completes the flash attack **Sensa** , echoing its memories to slice along a line of death. Yet, though the blade follows the correct path, its legend remains too weak to reach the Root. The result, therefore, is little more than crude mimicry, a pale imitation of the truth for which it strives. Still, fake though it may be, the cutting power cannot be denied._

 _ **Vajra** [Canonical Phantasm]  
Projected Noble Phantasm – Rank D+ – Anti-Unit_

 _A weapon crafted by Tvastar, the maker of divine instruments, using the bones of the sage, Dadhichi. It became symbol of divinity of Indra, the god of lightning, and the indestructible diamond pounder carried by the gods of Buddhism. It was held in one interpretation to be a manifestation of Indra's lightning._

 _When used, Vajra destructs, generating a lightning bolt equivalent to a C+ rank phantasm. As this is a projected phantasm, 1/5th the prana cost must be provided by the user with the rest being supplied by Gaia. Due to its nature, Vajra cannot be used as a broken phantasm._


	6. Chapter 6

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 6**  
-oOo-

"Armsmaster, Miss Militia."

Emily Piggot strode into the darkened meeting room. As Director of the PRT East North East, she was used to dealing with problems. Capes made a hash of everything. The world was circling around the drain. These days, a good day was one where things didn't turn to shit.

Even by that metric, this was one of her worst.

Emily pulled out a chair, coolly observing the others opposite of her. Anger and frustration boiled beneath a mask of professionalism. There were two ways to go about this. Calm and raging. Each served its own purpose. After a moment's consideration, she chose the latter. If ever there was a time to convey the magnitude of the error, this was it.

Besides, Emily wasn't sure she could keep the fury out of her tone.

She sat down heavily, purposefully allowing a small pile of folders to _thump_ onto the table. Her gaze gripped the two Parahumans joining the meeting with her. She spoke, expression hard and voice curt.

"You know what this meeting is about. Two of my APCs are out of commission. The Wards' full roster – minus Shadow Stalker – is in lockdown, along with half the Protectorate's capes. To top it off, just five minutes ago I watched a civilian on Channel 7 News describe how Grue, Vista, Aegis, and Panacea tried to rob Brockton Bay's Central Bank."

Emily's lips curled. "Explain this mess to me."

"If you would let me out, I could put things in order in half the time," Armsmaster growled from behind a video screen.

Armsmaster was, quite possibly, in a fouler mood than herself. The bank fight was a black mark on his record and the press was already running with it. It would take months for him to claw back into their good graces. Emily hadn't decided yet whether she would help him do it. Using this event as an excuse to demote the Tinker and give his position to Miss Militia would solve some long term problems, albeit at the expense of making her short term problems worse.

No. Better to observe how the media storm shook out. If she needed a sacrificial pawn, Armsmaster would be it.

"You aren't going anywhere, Colin," Emily retorted, purposefully using his real name to make him stop short. "Not until you've been cleared by the Protectorate."

That brought up the next layer of unpleasantness. All the parahumans and PRT agents involved in the Brockton Bay Bank battle were being held under Master/Stranger protocols. It left Emily's resources strained to the breaking point. But with more than half her capes exposed, she was not about to budge on the rules. The fact that it let her lock Armsmaster in an isolation chamber during a public relations nightmare? Icing on the shit cake.

"My report and the evidence clearly show that I was never touched by – "

"You will excuse me if I refrain from taking your word on that," Piggot said sharply, cutting him off.

She had no interest in Armsmaster's arguments or rationalizations. Colin glared back then settled into his seat with grumpy acceptance. But Piggot did not think for a second that she had heard the last of it.

"Ah. If you would excuse me, I can shed some light on that matter."

Colin's video screen flickered then split vertically. A plain faced woman appeared on the right. Emily stilled her face before it could twist into a scowl. Dragon. Of course Armsmaster would let her listen in.

Dragon was the world's premier Tinker and the PRT's most trusted resource. That in turn had given the woman a chance to schmooze her way into every corner of the organization. Emily had yet to figure out the cape's game, but no one gathered that kind of power without one. On any ordinary day, Emily would have refused Dragon's help on that principle alone, but with things as they were she couldn't afford to say no.

Which, Emily thought sourly, was probably why Dragon showed up.

"If you have something useful to add, your presence would be appreciated," Emily answered with cool politeness.

"Then I can start us off with some good news," Dragon said. "Two more news stations have run witness interviews, naming as culprits: 'Clockblocker, Dauntless, Tattletale and Hellhound' and 'Regent, Glory Girl, Caster, and Gallant' respectively."

Emily's eyes sharpened. All three were different. That, indeed, was excellent news.

"Good," Emily said forcefully. "If the media is spitting out mixed messages, the general public will be more accepting when the PRT claims that the witnesses were manipulated by a Master class cape."

"Even so, there will be those who believe whatever they heard first," Miss Militia added with a heavy sigh.

And that was Hannah's flaw. Too soft. Too much concern for the lives of individuals and not enough focus on the big picture. Optimally, if she demoted Armsmaster, she would place him directly under Miss Militia. His harsh efficiency would offset Hannah's human touch perfectly. In fact, Emily had set the two side-by-side hoping for exactly that. A pity Armsmaster never realized it, as that would have saved her a good deal of trouble.

"There are always fools who accept anything they hear, just as there are those who will swallow every nutcase conspiracy they can conjure up. I'm happy enough to know that this will not crystallize into a more serious problem," Emily dismissed. "What do we know about these capes?"

"They called themselves Unit 09," Armsmaster said, gruffly. "A presumed parahuman mercenary squad. We have identified four likely capes. Overmind, female, a probable Master with the ability to control insects. Archer, a suspected power lender. The others remain unclassified."

"We can add Caster's name to that list," Miss Militia pointed out.

Nothing that hadn't made it into the reports. Despite herself, Emily scowled. She had been hoping that a couple more hours would scare up more information.

"You mean to tell me that I have a team of parahuman mercenaries running around my city, purportedly without masks, and we know nothing about them?" Emily said, voice positively seething.

Silence.

Emily Piggot clenched her fists and resisted to the urge to stand up and slam her hands onto the table. "Please tell me someone can at least draw a picture."

"Unfortunately not," Miss Militia said with a sigh. "I interviewed the Wards along with Velocity and Dauntless in hopes of getting a description. However, it quickly become clear that not only has their memory of who did what been confused, but also their ability to recall more than superficial details of the four capes in question."

Emily turned toward the video screen. "And you, Armsmaster. Your report says you saw two."

"I saw Archer for a mere instant," Armsmaster answered bluntly. "Gray coat. Red hair. Wielding a bow. As for the first."

The video screen split again, the boxes featuring Dragon and Armsmaster retreating into the top left and bottom right corners respectively. The rest of screen was filled with a single image. Overmind, wearing a dark, tight fitting uniform. Segments of padded armor covered the cape's vitals while sunlight glittered off buried chitin. Her mask had dull yellowed lenses and mandibles. Long hair spilled out the open back, the only clear clue that the cape was female.

Emily settled into her seat as everyone studied the image.

"Your report said your camera malfunctioned," she said, shuffling through her notes in search of the document in question.

"It did," Armsmaster confirmed, sounding irritated. "The electromagnetic negation field Unit 09 deployed disrupted the flow of electricity in the zone of effect, producing the observed blackout. This field, however, was diminished in biological organisms and – for unknown reasons – tinker-tech equipment. As a result my armor's high-voltage, high current components continued to operate normally, while my more delicate systems experienced significant flux and loss of function."

Emily glowered. Tinker babble.

"What Colin is saying is that his camera recorded static," Dragon offered with an apologetic smile. "However, as fortune would have it, that static contained snippets of real data. On a hunch, we ran the video through a software algorithm that compared the statistical occurrence of each pixel over a large number of frames. Getting it right took a bit of tweaking, but we were able to restore the image you see here."

"Excellent work," Emily said honestly. She folded her notes back into a neat little pile. "Can we use this technique to recover an image of Archer?"

"Regrettably, no," Dragon lamented. "It was only possible to tease out this much because Overmind appeared in over a thousand frames."

Emily nodded. "We will show that image during the press conference tonight. At least that way we won't look like completely incompetent fools."

A period of quiet settled.

"Dragon," Miss Militia said after a moment. "Is it possible that Unit 09 is an international team?"

The plain faced woman on the screen shook her head. "I checked their name against a list of domestic and international organizations. There are no parahuman teams that share their name or any close permutation. There are, however, a number of non-parahuman organizations that do – though most are educational in nature. The closest I came to a match was a filing for a Private Investigation Agency named Enforcer Unit 09 made three months ago. I believe they have a PO box in Brockton Bay."

"I'll have an agent follow up on that thread," Emily said. "But I don't expect anything from it."

Trying to look too deeply into a name often proved foolish. Bland names and numerics drew association with the military and large organizations. In contrast, the number nine recalled the Slaughter House Nine and all that it stood for. Though, she supposed, that number could just as easily create a mental connection to the Empire Eighty Eight.

Any of those could be true or none of them. For all Emily knew, Unit 09 had chosen its designation because it was their leader's ninth attempt to form a team.

Emily leaned back in her chair and pondered for a moment longer. "Then you suspect the team is newly formed?"

"That is what the evidence suggests," Dragon confirmed. "But the level of expertise Unit 09 showed..."

Emily nodded. Dragon's thoughts matched her own. This was not a team forged from fresh triggers. Unit 09's capes were clearly experienced. Experience meant evidence. Paper trails. Records.

"Then we track them by the individual cape," Emily decided with distaste. "Assume rebranding and possible second triggers. What do we have to work with?"

"Overmind assisted in Lung's capture in the April 11th video," Armsmaster added. "We have next to no information on the others."

Ah yes, the April 11th video. Of course Armsmaster would remember that. Emily eyed the picture of Overmind. A bug controlling cape. The data fit. But who, then, would be the second? Caster or the unnamed fourth?

"Then this is all we have," Emily stated, gesturing toward the screen.

"Actually," Miss Militia interrupted, eyes crinkling to form a smile. "During my interviews I noticed an odd consistency. While the identities of the perpetrators changed randomly, the actual sequence of events remained the same throughout each telling."

"Oh. Oh! That is good," Dragon said, eyes widening. She took on a friendly smile. "Velocity's and Dauntless's brain scan revealed that the region effected by the Master's power was the hippocampus. Specifically the portions responsible for intermediate to long-term memory transfer. With this, I can hypothesize that our cape interferes with this process. Particularly through the form of swapping abstract facts. Thus a robber becomes Clockblocker instead Grue, or Vista instead of Tattletale.

"I see," Emily murmured in thought, mentally cobbling together the facts. "If that is the case, we can accept the witnessed events as true."

Approximately true anyway. Unit 09 had, undoubtedly, left a few red herrings for anyone following that thread. Irritating. They would have to triple check everything.

"Which means we can deduce our unknown capes' powers," Miss Militia finished. "Though not necessarily to whom that power belongs."

"More importantly, it means you can let me out," Armsmaster added gruffly. The annoyed Tinker's arms were folded while he glared through his screen. "Intermediate-term memory only endures for two hours. If that is the only thing this Master can affect, there is no reason to hold any of us."

"Nobody is leaving isolation until I get Thinker confirmation, and that's final," Emily retorted. "The risk of a compromised division is too great for anything less."

Emily Piggot glared back with emphasis. This was one point on which she would not relent.

"Since this topic seems exhausted, let us proceed to the next issue," Emily said, shifting the direction of the meeting. When she continued, her voice was grim. "What is the probability that we are dealing with an S-classed mind manipulator?"

Dead silence.

The question had to be asked. Mind altering capes were dangerous. The Protectorate had made the mistake of underestimating them before. Heartbreaker was the most notable case. If they had put out the kill order sooner. If they had not waited until they were certain about his power. If they had struck quickly, before he had several capes under his thrall, Heartbreaker would have fallen easily. Instead, Montreal was trapped in an unsteady truce, a cancer growing in its heart.

"We have no evidence Unit 09's Master can influence more than memory transfer," Dragon hedged.

"There is no evidence that their Master cannot, either," Emily pointed out coolly. "If we wait until we can confirm one way or the other, it may already be too late."

"It's impossible to prove a negative," Armsmaster countered, sounding as though it pained him to do so. "A kill order without evidence sets a bad precedent."

"We also need to be concerned about escalation," Miss Militia added. She glanced over the group, giving everyone a knowing reminder. "For better or worse, Unit 09 chose to leave the Protectorate intact. They could have done worse. And if their Master has powers like you say, we must acknowledge that they showed restraint."

Their answers fit Emily's expectations. In truth, she was reluctant to move on this herself, no matter her fear of a second Nilbog. Miss Militia had the right of it. Unit 09 could have executed all her capes, or destroyed the PRT politically by framing them with the crime. No. This was a message. Unit 09 had made it abundantly clear that she was at their mercy.

And, galling as it was to admit it, they were right.

Politics demanded that Emily play to their tune, but she would be damned if she didn't stack the deck in her favor. Bringing up the kill order now served that end. By forcing the others to consider the idea, she made them more amenable should she choose to pull the trigger.

"Then there is universal objection?"

Nobody said a word.

"So be it," Emily declared. "We will refrain from further escalation until provoked. But I want a full investigation of Unit 09. I refuse to allow a second Heartbreaker, or worse, a Slaughter House Nine to grow up in my city. And mark my words, with the kind of power Unit 09 has shown here, that is exactly the level of threat we would be dealing with."

There was a moment of quiet before the meeting resumed. Emily took the chance to look through her notes.

"It seems that we have covered the major subjects for this meeting. As such, I would like to use our remaining time to war game Unit 09's abilities. This is an open floor. Would anyone like to begin?"

Miss Militia picked up first. "My primary concern would be the blackout ability they used at the bank. If they were to target the PRT or PHQ, especially at night, they could paralyze our entire operation."

Emily frowned, playing out the events in her head. Darkness would limit the ability to counter attack. Communications would be down. No reinforcements. Possibly no information sharing between units within the same building. An attack like that would leave them crippled and highly vulnerable to the high powered fighters of Unit 09.

"Counters?"

"I could shield a backup generator and a handful of equipment using tinker tech," Armsmaster grunted.

"Focus on communications then," Emily concurred. "Others?"

"If it's a night attack we are considering, I would suggest chemical lights," Dragon added. "As for internal communications, there is a Tinker in San Diego that specializes in non-electric devices. I believe he _may_ be able to supply us with radios, or more accurately, their functional equivalent."

Emily smiled. This was one thing she liked about Dragon. For a Tinker, Dragon often chose the simplest and most robust solution to a complicated problem.

"I will order a supply of flares immediately. Miss Militia, please take the time to ensure that the Wards are properly trained in their use. Next problem?"

-oOo-

Imagine, for a moment, a young superhero. A newbie, just learning the ropes. She had gone out, fought some crime, then ran into a real challenge. Things got bad. But before they got out of hand, an older woman stepped in with street clothes and a smile. The young superhero looked up to her. They hung out, formed a team. Things were looking up.

Then the call came in.

There was a big rush. Everyone suited up. And that was when the young hero realized she was standing next to Alexandria, Legend, and Eidolon.

That was roughly how I felt right now.

I had known my team was strong. Rin defeated Lung and displayed incredible versatility. Shirou was powerful enough to win a spar against her. And, in addition to his superhuman physique, Shirou was a power lender. A Trump of the highest caliber. Eidolon lite. Saber? Saber was amazing. But I hadn't grasped how amazing. Saber was a healer, a power nullifier, and a Brute.

They were overwhelming. The situation was overwhelming. I was too small. Too weak. I didn't belong.

What I was watching now didn't help that feeling.

" _Reports remain mixed as to the perpetrators of th_ _is afternoon's_ _robbery_ _of the_ _Brockton Bay Central Bank, with witnesses_ _testimony claiming anything and anyone up to and including the_ _Protectorate itself."_

" _The PRT official announcement is that the robbery was conducted by the Undersiders in conjunction with a mercenary band called Unit 09,_ _Jim."_

" _Indeed,_ _but with things so confused we may never know the_ _truth_ _."_

"Pfft...," Alec laughed. "They just told you and nobody believed it. Ha. Ha. Ha."

The television displayed fuzzy footage of the bank fight as the anchors spoke with faux authority. The images were distorted and obscured by the rippling flicker of the Rin's bounded field. Beneath, I could see the battle on the street play out, a war between ant sized figures. The news casters speculated on who was who. Then, to my horror, the camera shifted and zoomed. Between flashes of lightning I caught glimpse of the fight between Armsmaster and me.

I buried my face in my hands. Oh god, kill me now.

We were in the Undersiders' hideout. Alec and I had claimed the two couches and were currently watching the news. It was like staring at a train wreck. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't make myself do it. I kept waiting for a name to drop. For someone to make the connection. Surely somebody would realize that was _me._

Rachel glowered from a fair distance away. I didn't pay her much mind. Saber was keeping an eye on her. Brian, Lisa, and Rin were arguing in the back, hashing out the details of their bargain. Shirou, well, I was not sure where Shirou had disappeared to. Knowing him, he had already commandeered the Undersiders' kitchen and turned it into his own private castle.

" _Watch. Just a second now. There. See that? Armsmaster flees from his assailant, leaving Vista, Clockblocker, and the rest of the Brockton Bay Wards at the tender mercies of these unknown villains,"_ the reporter said, the screen flashing to an adorable image of Vista and Clockblocker at the Brockton Bay Arcade. _"It is not clear yet how he was defeated."_

" _How can anyone feel safe after an event like that? Hopefully we will get answers during tonight's press conference."_

I wanted to cry. I didn't win against Armsmaster. It was the other way around. He only ran because Shirou showed up.

"I'm a villain," I muttered dully. "My second cape fight, and I'm already a villain."

"Mountain Dew or Root Beer?"

I looked up to see a well-built, dark skinned man looming over me. I scooted to the side to give Brian more room.

"Uh, Root Beer please," I said, taking a drink.

Brian sat at my side, popping the tab on his Mountain Dew.

"It's best not to worry too much. Your team ran a clean op. Lisa tells me the PRT won't get much and the media will get even less. Even if the PRT does figure something out, they won't act on it. Rules and all."

I looked at him, dubious. "Would they really?"

"Probably," Brian answered with a great shrug. He slammed back his Mountain Dew. "Don't get me wrong. I don't buy into Lisa's cops and robbers spiel. But the PRT and Protectorate know what they are risking if they push too hard. And they are the ones with the most to lose."

I was doubtful it was as simple as Brian thought. Maybe the PRT stuck to the rules. Publicly. Privately though, well, there was little stopping them from setting a sting and triggering it the moment a cape suited up. And that was to say nothing about the intelligence they could gather by wire tapping a cape's home.

There were a lot of ways to bend the rules without breaking them. And that was before considering how Armsmaster fought me using a deadly weapon.

"If you say so," I said neutrally.

Fizz spritzed when I opened my soda. I took a gulp, letting the carbonated liquid roll over my tongue. My arm hurt with the motion. It was a good hurt. A no longer broken hurt. The feeling was almost enough to draw my attention away from the cruddy root beer I imbibed.

The TV rolled on in the background. Lisa was talking into a phone behind me, communicating with the Undersiders' mysterious boss. Whatever was being said apparently did not satisfy Rin, because the dark haired woman reached over and simply snatched the phone from Lisa's hands. The freckled blond looked a bit sick as Rin laid out her demands with her sweet, dangerous tone.

"Shouldn't you be part of that?" I asked.

Brian threw an arm over the couch's back then twisted so he could see. I did my best not to notice his well muscled bicep not quite touching my shoulders.

Not. Noticing.

"No. As far as I am concerned the deal is already settled." Brian released the couch, crushed his aluminum can in a hand then tossed it basket ball style into a far wastebasket. "Speaking of which, is there anything we should be worried about now that our teams are hooking up?"

I shrugged.

"Not much. Shirou is aiming for the Merchants. Saber might run you ragged, assuming you get pulled into my training," I said. Then I snorted a laugh and quirked a smile. "Oh, and Rin is fond of human experimentation."

Brian grimaced. I took pity on him.

"She's not that bad," I relented, not believing that I was defending her.

From the look Brian gave me, he didn't believe it either.

"Okay, it hurts like hell," I admitted. "But you'll get over it."

I glanced around, searching for another topic. I found one sitting in the corner, a grumpy expression on her face. Rachel. The butch girl met my gaze and glared at me angrily. The right side of her face was swollen and black. I felt the sudden urge to add a second bruise. Rachel lost all right to act like that after she pulled her shit at the bank.

Belatedly, I realized that Saber had not healed her. Good. Rachel deserved a few hours stirring in her own stupidity.

"She going to be a problem?" I asked.

Brian glanced over his shoulder, his visage turning dark. "She better not, or we'll cut her loose."

"Should have done it already," I said viciously. Rachel was a mad dog. I couldn't trust her with my back.

"Hard to give up our only heavy hitter," Brian lamented. "Besides, you really think Rin and Saber would let her off before she pays her dues?"

I gave a dark laugh, then gulped down the rest of my root beer. "Don't know about Saber, but Rin definitely wouldn't. If Rachel tried to cut and run, Rin would dump her at the PRT's feet gift wrapped with a bow and everything."

Assuming Rin didn't mindfuck Rachel into compliance.

Copying Brian, I crushed my aluminum can and tossed it toward the wastebasket. _Clank-clatter_. I missed. The metal can danced away from the trashcan. Oops.

I stood up and put it in properly.

With a victorious smile, Rin returned Lisa's phone. The freckled blonde took it with a deep frown, talked for a minute, then hung up.

"That's our cue," Brian said while shutting the TV off.

"Hey, I was watching that," Alec complained.

Brian ignored him and stood. "Everyone gather up," he called in a loud voice.

Unit 09 and the Undersiders gathered around the table, dragging a couple of extra chairs so that no one would be left standing. The only one missing was Shirou. I could hear sounds rising from the back, complemented by a rich aroma. Yum.

"Shirou?"

"In the kitchen," Rin said with a sigh. "We'll start without him."

Lisa stepped forward, wearing a broad smile.

"Okay, here is the deal. The Boss agreed to lend us to Unit 09 for a full month, today not withstanding. That means we work for them until end of the day, May fifteenth," Lisa explained. "The Boss will continue paying his retainer during this time, but we don't do jobs for him and he doesn't provide matching funds. Got it?"

Alec raised a hand and waved it around indolently. "What happens if we don't want to be part of this deal?"

"Then you shall be delivered into the hands of the law to serve your sentence diligently," Saber declared.

Unsaid was the fact that the diminutive blonde would hunt down anyone who refused or escaped. In other words, the Undersiders would pay penance to Unit 09 or the State, full stop.

"Think of this as community service," Rin said, a chilling smile upon her lips.

"It's a non-issue anyway, because everyone here intends to pay their dues," Brian said. He swept his eyes over the group, a glare lingering on Rachel to make clear that doing otherwise was not an option. "That being said, the Undersiders have their own rules and standards. There are things we'll do and there are things we won't. Unit 09 does not seem to be the type to ask for the things we won't, but I want to make that clear before we go any further."

Saber nodded. "So long as your intentions remain honorable, we shall respect the frame of your morality."

"No means no, I think we can all agree on that," Rin said coolly. I could tell from her tone she was actually annoyed. "Then let us proceed onto expectations. Shirou can speak for himself, but what I want is Lisa's service. That, and I'm interested in studying parahumans and parahuman powers. Taylor provided some good data. But, to refine my hypotheses, I would like each of you to submit to an exam of sorts."

Brian looked at me.

I returned a weak smile as though to say _I told you_.

"I'm willing to play ball and endure this exam of yours," Brian said bravely. "But if I have any objections after the process, I expect you to back off when it comes to the others."

Rin's brow twitched.

"Nuh uh," Lisa contradicted, waggling a finger teasingly. "You get to be number three. I have already volunteered to be the second girl Rin strips in her secret dungeon."

Rin's cheeks heated and her whole body began to quiver as though she were about to explode.

"Wait, wait," Alec interrupted. "This 'experiment' involves getting naked with a sexy Asian chick? Why didn't anyone say so? Sign me up."

"I would take care with your words," Rin said icily, a frozen smile on her lips. "Otherwise they might be your last."

"Scary. Scary," Alec laughed.

Saber, however, did not see the humor in the conversation. "Rin is already spoken for. If you persist in attacking her virtue, I will throw down my glove."

The atmosphere stilled. Lisa grimaced. Alec's laughter petered out. Saber was not telling a joke. Before things could escalate further, a new voice broke in.

"I believe that is my role."

Shirou emerged from the kitchen bearing platters of ambrosia. He set the succulent snacks on either end of the table, heavenly scents rising from the food in sync with the steam. Saber's hardened eyes brightened, giving her the gleefully look of an eager school girl. I'll admit, I did not wait more than a second myself before snatching up one of the skewers and gorging on the meat.

"I had to make due with the limited supplies, but I hope everyone is satisfied," Shirou said, his apron dissolving into mist.

"Uh, no, I'm actually surprised you could make anything at all, given what we had in the kitchen," Brian said, sounding as though he were in a daze.

"You had some left over chicken that was about to go bad, so I thought it was better to use it now rather than to throw it away. It took some doing, and I had to adjust the recipe for the yakitori, but I am confident that it came out well enough," Shirou answered. "Now, what did I miss?"

"Rin and I settled how we were going to handle her experiments," Brian said, gaze snapping up from the food. He glanced toward the brunette, who folded her arms in response. "But, from what I understand, that is a few days of work at best. So the question remains; what are you going to do with the Undersiders for the rest of the month?"

"I want to take down the gangs," Shirou said. "All of them."

Alec sounded a low whistle. Brian looked across our two teams as though weighing our combined strength. Even Rachel switched her glower for a look of suspicious contemplation.

"Taylor mentioned you were aiming for the Merchants," Brian said, glancing toward me. "But don't you think picking a fight with all of them is a bit too much?"

"Fighting them all at one time would be a stretch, even with the forces we have," Shirou admitted.

"It would be easy enough if we killed them all," Rin retorted.

All eyes fell on the brunette. I could feel anxiety sweep the room. Unit 09 used the phrase kill too casually and had a terrible confidence in their ability to do so. It made the rest of us uneasy.

"I would prefer that we refrain from such tactics," Shirou replied evenly.

Rin and Shirou exchanged glares. I had a feeling this was a conversation those two had often. Brian glanced between both, expression tense.

"Killing is one of those things Undersiders are not willing to do. So, no offense, if comes to that we walk."

"To do so would violate the norms established for such conflicts," Saber said, nodding. She gave the brunette a stern look.

"I was merely pointing out that we have the option," Rin replied irritably.

"And it would be most foolish to ignore that option, should the situation demand harsh response," Saber agreed with a nod, allowing Rin a small victory.

"Such tactics, however, would be contrary to our long term goals," Shirou added. "No. Our overall method will focus on debilitation and capture. The Merchants, I intend to destroy entirely. The others will be broken and brought to heel. Leaving their organization intact but diminished will keep them from being replaced."

Brian shifted on his seat, glancing across the crew before taking control of the conversation.

"That's a tall order," he said carefully. "We have the Merchants outnumbered and out gunned, so there is no question about our ability to handle them. The ABB should be a soft target as well with Lung gone."

"Meh. We got the dragon slayer on our side," Alec said dismissively. "We could take them even if they had Lung."

Brian looked at Rin who smugly brushed her hair aside in response.

"Maybe. But since they don't, they shouldn't be a problem. The Empire Eighty Eight–"

"Actually," Lisa interrupted. "The ABB might be more of a problem without Lung than with. The ABB's new cape, Bakuda, is a bomb tinker. She's extremely dangerous and more than a little cracked in the head. Lung had been keeping her in check. Now?"

Lisa shrugged.

"It's anyone's guess what will happen."

"We'll deal with the ABB second then," Shirou said, a deep frown marring his face. He turned his gaze back to Brian. "You were saying?"

Brian shot a look of thanks and took the offered floor. "The Empire Eighty Eight is going to be a much bigger problem. They have twice our number in capes, straight up. Worse, practically all of them are heavy hitters."

I pursed my lips. "You don't think you can hold your own in a fight?"

"The Undersiders' specialties are escape and infiltration, not combat," Brian explained. He formed a wry smile. "It's a good team, and against anyone _but_ capes we could give more than we get. But we don't have the fire power to go head to head with the gangs, or the Protectorate for that matter."

"If you had joined our team, you'd be our heavy hitter," Lisa teased.

My cheeks heated with embarrassment. "I'm not that strong."

"You sell yourself short," Brian said seriously. "You had half the Wards tangled up all on your lonesome and, from what Lisa tells me, you did a fair bit of damage against Lung before he took you down."

I glared half heartedly at Lisa. She shouldn't be telling stories I couldn't back up.

Felt nice though.

"If it's the Empire Eighty Eight, we will be more than sufficient," Rin said primly, still a bit miffed from being shot down earlier.

"I concur," Saber added. "Their number is great and their power naught to scoff at. But if battle is addressed in a proper manner, our united forces should prove more than sufficient to overcome."

"They have fifteen capes," Brian retorted.

"Have a little faith," Lisa said lightly, patting the dark skinned man on his shoulder. "Unit 09 has yet to play its 'trump' cards."

Alec threw an empty can. The vulpine blonde dodged out of the way. I groaned. Shirou and Saber. Trumps. We got it.

Heh. Rin probably qualified as one as well, come to think of it.

Brian gave a sideways look at the freckled blonde. Lisa grinned in response.

"Okay, if you think we can win, I'll accept it. But that still leaves us with one big problem. Lets say we beat all three gangs. Then what? Oni Lee and Skidmark might have a rap sheet long enough to warrant the Birdcage, but most the others have kept their hands clean. And, as much as I hate to say it, the Empire has a good rep for participating in Endbringer fights. The PRT will go easy on them. So anyone we put in is going to be back out in half the time it took to put them there in the first place. That's not a sustainable scenario. Sooner or later we'll be facing a united front."

"There is no need to worry on that end," Rin said coolly. Her lips twisted into an evil smile. "I have ways to ensure that any deal we strike is kept."

Lisa went pale. I felt a chill crawl down my spine. Don't tell me that Rin has something _worse_ than Hypnosis up her sleeves.

Brian looked at the brunette questioningly. Rin's smile grew wider. The dark skinned man sighed.

"Having a little less secrecy would help with the team building," he grumbled. Brian squared his shoulders and looked at the redhead. "How we going to do this?"

Shirou stooped and brushed the table clear, leaving room for snacks only. I took the chance to nab a few potato wedges, indulging in their crisp, spiced skins. I eyed the remainder, each crafted from sweet potato, but seeing how Saber had claimed them for herself, I did not dare to try.

On the empty surface, Shirou spread his map.

"For the last few months, I've been hunting the Merchants' primary assets. We have identified a number of promising locations, including their main smuggling depot, Squealer's workshop," Shirou pointed at a red dot marked with a B near the boat graveyard, then dragged his finger across to a second marked A. Then he shifted his finger to the dot just North of the Docks. "– and their primary armory.

"We will sweep those three locations and as many more beside. To destroy the Merchants we need to wipe out at least half their operational revenue, their entire band of parahumans, and as much of their middle management as we can get our hands on."

Brian's eyes widened as he took in the map. "This is a list of bases?"

I gulped down my food quickly, then spoke. "Yeah. Shirou and I have been checking out locations one by one, trying to figure which ones were important and not."

"Impressive," Brian said, give me honest appraise. "Lisa, could you take a look at this and maybe fill things in?"

Lisa grimaced.

"I'm riding the edge of a thinker headache, but sure," Lisa answered with none of her usual enthusiasm. "Anyone got any colored pens?"

Wordlessly, Shirou offered a quintet of writing instruments.

Lisa stepped forward to look at the map. The rest of us moved to give her more room. The freckled blonde took a few long moments to scrutinize the dots and the streets.

"Well, to start with I can add a few places, here, here and here," Lisa said, dabbing down a full score of dots in a mix of red, blue, green, and purple. "My power is also telling me that I can lay down some letters for you. But, before I do that, I want to know what ranks an A in your world?"

I raised a brow. Really? Lisa could do that just by looking at a map? What the hell had I been doing for the last few days then? Thinkers were bullshit.

Who was I kidding? All powers were bullshit. Some were just more bullshit than others.

"The locations and living areas of the Merchants' Parahuman leaders," Shirou answered.

"Then I have some bad news," Lisa answered, while scrawling a handful of letters – including a couple marked B/A. "Squealer does not have a workshop, she has several. Worse, while they are built into their main points of operations, the Merchants drift between them willy-nilly."

With the strike of her pen, Lisa transformed our lone A into a B/A.

Shirou scowled. "Then we have no way of knowing where they are."

" _Pf_ _f_ _t_...," Alec sounded. "Why bother? Just smash up their operations and they will find you."

"That might work, actually," Lisa said. "Unit 09's rep isn't so high yet that the Merchants would run for ground if you picked a fight. Plus the Merchants are pretty much brain fried so..."

"They might be dumb enough to try even if they understood how much power you are packing," Brian finished.

"Tis a risky plan," Saber said thoughtfully. "If we are not fortunate enough to earn the ire of their primary force, there exists the prospect their organization will recover."

"But if we don't know where the Merchants are at any one point, do we have a choice?" I asked.

"Nay," Saber confirmed.

Shirou studied Lisa's changes.

"How reliable is your power?"

"My power lets me extrapolate from known information. For instance, if I can see someone's face, my power can tell me if they are hiding something or outright lying. Or, if handed a map of Merchant bases, my power can fill it in, highlighting where additional bases might be," Lisa explained, flashing a vulpine smile toward me.

Okay, apparently all my hard work was not pointless. Just mostly pointless.

"She gets things wrong," Brian warned.

Lisa shot the dark skinned man a betrayed look.

"My power operates on the information I receive. If that information is wrong, or if I use my power to extrapolate too far, it will start producing errors," she admitted

I nodded. In other words, her Thinker ability provided an effect similar to the speculation of a very smart, well educated woman. Sherlock Holmes, the power. Useful, but it could not create something out of nothing. No. If it had nothing, it would be worse the useless. Uninformed speculation from a brilliant person was not just wrong. It was _convincing_.

"Then we'll attack after confirming the intelligence Lisa provided," Shirou decided. "Any other questions?"

"Ooh!" Lisa raised a hand. "What do we do with all the loot?"

"Loot?" I asked, confused.

"For a criminal group, like the Undersiders, it's pretty common to take anything valuable when running a job. A little cash on the side," Brian explained. "Basically, Lisa is asking if we can rob the Merchants after hitting them."

I looked over my team dubiously. Looting the Merchants' sounded a little too criminal for my tastes. And Rin _had_ forced the Undersiders to return the money they stole from the bank. On the other hand, this was the Merchants we were talking about. They had it coming.

Rin flipped her hair disdainfully. "Are you idiots? Of course we loot them."

Saber nodded her consent. "When raiding the enemy supply line, it is only obvious to pillage what is of use then burn the rest."

… And I forgot. My team did not give a shit about the rules.

"Oh, oh, can we keep the drugs?" Alec asked with faux enthusiasm.

"We destroy the drugs and anything else of questionable value," Shirou answered.

"Aww," Alec lamented. "What a waste."

An idea crossed my mind that left me with a feeling of distaste. But I felt it needed to be said.

"If we dumped the drugs on the market, could we drive the down the prices and ruin any connected businesses?" I asked, then I rushed to add. "Not the bad drugs of course."

"If the volume is big enough, sure," Lisa answered. "But the effect wouldn't last long. A month or two at tops. And with the differences between gangs, it wouldn't have that big of an impact anyway. While the Merchants pull about sixty-to-seventy percent of their funds through the drug trade, the ABB and the Empire only rely on it to fill in ten or twenty."

"And even if it worked, it wouldn't be worth the risk," Brian added. "Street dealing doesn't earn much more than burger flipping and leaves you an easy target beside."

"I would do it," Alec offered, waving his hand.

"That's because you're an idiot," Brian retorted.

Alec shrugged. "Cash is cash."

My shoulders shrank. I knew it was a stupid idea before I mentioned it. I should have kept my mouth shut.

Saber set a supportive hand on my shoulder.

"Taylor, you are approaching the problem from the correct angle, it is simply that your current method fails," Saber comforted. The blonde's eyes shifted to the brunette. "Rin, is there any means by which we could turn the enemy's concoctions against them?"

"I could lace the drugs with a potion, if that is what you are asking. But we would probably have too many false positives, no matter what we used," Rin mused.

"We destroy the drugs," Shirou said with finality. He glanced over the group. "Any more questions?"

We all looked around. Nobody said anything.

"Well," Brian said standing up. He offered a genial smile to the crowd. "Since all that's settled, how about we head out to Fugly Bob's and get to know each other. Food is on me."

Lisa dipped down and snuck a handful of wedges past Saber.

"Fuck Fugly Bob's," she quipped.

Alec looked at Lisa curiously, then grabbed one of the few remaining yakitori. He chewed with thoughtful consideration.

"Yeah. Fuck it," he pronounced.

"Hey you two," Brian scolded. "Don't be taking advantage of our new boss."

"I don't mind," Shirou countered. His lips quirked with amusement. "And if I did, I doubt Saber would let me get away with less."

"Verily," Saber confirmed. The tiny blonde pulled the bowl of wedges closer, then leaned over the dish so as to dissuade future interlopers.

Brian sighed. "Then we'll go with that. But we need groceries if we are going to feed everyone."

"Oooh. I'll get them!" Lisa said a little too enthusiastically. In fact, she was on the verge of a fangirl squeal.

Careful there Shirou, or she is going to start living at your place. That would make it, what, a foursome? God, I could not believe I thought that. Hard to blame her though. Just imagine eating food like that every day. Plus Shirou had that whole mysterious hero vibe going for him.

He was pretty cute too...

… and _wa_ _aa_ _y_ too old for me.

Don't go down that road, Taylor. You will die. I shivered, glancing toward the dangerous, frozen hearted Rin. I would _definitely_ die.

What a terrifying power. Shirou might not be Heartbreaker II, but he was certainly a harem king.

Lisa exited the room, twirling Brian's keys on a finger. Rin and Shirou retreated into the back. Saber pulled away into a far corner, giving space to Brian and a reluctant Alec as they shuffled furniture in a vain attempt to make the Undersiders' hideout party ready.

Rachel, scowl still on her face, finally stalked out of her spot near the stairs. She glowered down at Shirou's map for a near minute then reached for a pen.

"What are you doing?"

I tried not to sound rude, but I didn't trust Rachel not to screw things up. Shirou and I worked hard to fill that thing out, dammit.

Rachel eyed me suspiciously, then turned back to the map. "Missing a few dots."

"What kind?" I pressed.

"Why the fuck do you care?" Rachel glowered.

I glared back. Rachel had chosen her cape name well.

"It's color coded. You can't just add things however you want."

Rachel gave a nasty look back, but seemed to accept what I said.

"Dog fighting rings," she muttered.

Dogs? My gaze flicked to Rachel's three hounds. I was picking up hints that Rachel had an affinity for the animals that extended well beyond her power. I brushed the thought aside. That was not what we were here for.

"No. Who runs the place. Merchants? ABB? Empire? There is a color for each," I explained, carefully. "We use letters to determine their importance, but I can't let you put one down until Shirou or I take a look at it. But, if you want, we can put a little plus next to the dot because it is important to you. Okay?"

"Okay," Rachel said voice sounding small. "Its Empire."

"Then you want blue," I said, handing her the correct pen. "Just make sure to put it in the right place."

"I know how to read a fucking map," Rachel snapped.

I glared. She glared. How the hell did the Undersiders put up with her? Eventually the butch girl turned away and stooped over the paper for a long moment, leaving me with the impression she was as bad at cartography as she seemed. Finally though, she swirled in a pair of dots. I watched her like a hawk, ensuring she did not add anything more than a small plus.

"Better take care of it, or I'll do it my fucking self," Rachel said, slapping down her pen.

"I will talk to Shirou about it, but I don't make decisions on priority," I replied, unmoved.

Rachel growled and stalked away. God that girl pissed me off. I was about turn my back when an idea hit me.

"Hey," I called. I offered her a chicken skewer. "For the dogs."

Rachel looked at me as though I were trying to poison her pets. I waggled the yakitori. Rachel snatched it from my hand, then sniffed it. Her nose wrinkled. She sniffed again then tore into the meat. Three chews and a swallow latter, she grabbed the whole plate.

"I don't owe you a fucking thing," she spat before retreating into her corner.

Last time I helped her. Well, at least I tried. With a sigh, I folded Shirou's map and took a seat at the edge of the room well out of Alec and Brian's way.

A finger tapped me on the shoulder.

"Taylor, do you have a minute?"

I turned to face Rin. The dark haired Asian had a hand on her hip and a serious expression on her face.

"I suppose I do," I said, curious.

Rin turned and gestured for me to follow. She opened a door and we stepped into what could be called a storage closet, if storage closets were as big as my bedroom. An uneasy feeling fluttered in my heart. Rin was, in essence, my boss. She had dragged me into a private space. Had I done something wrong?

I reviewed the fight at the bank in my mind, desperately searching for my mistake.

"What's this about?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

Rin shot a look outside to make sure we would not be bothered. Once satisfied, she returned her gaze to me.

"Well, to begin, I would like to say good job."

"Huh?" I blanked.

"You handled yourself well out there, Taylor," Rin said with a smile. "I will be honest. At first I thought you would be a drag on our resources. So I am pleasantly surprised to see that you can hold your own."

A flash of irritation shot through me but that feeling was quickly overwhelmed by the heating of my cheeks.

"Thanks?"

Rin nodded, appearing pleased. "Good. Then as the next order of business, there is something I need to revise about our relationship. Originally, I said your position was unpaid. However, seeing as you are contributing member, that is unfair. As such, from now on, you will receive a fair share of any contract we complete."

That sounded good. "How much money are we talking about here?"

"Unit 09 is not currently taking any work, so it is a lot less than normal. Also, I have to deduct unit expenses first," Rin explained. "However, for your current wage, I believe fifteen thousand a month will suffice."

Fifteen-thousand a month!

I choked. That was what? One-hundred and eighty grand a year? That was more than twice what my Dad made. Hell, it was probably closer to three or four times it. I could not fathom having that kind of money. What on Earth would I do with all of it?

"Isn't that a little too much?" I babbled. "I mean, you are training me, taking care of my schooling, and everything."

Stupid Taylor. Don't argue your pay _down_.

Rin set a hand on her hip. "Taylor, exactly how much do you think an ordinary Enforcer contract pays?"

"Uh...," I searched my brain desperately. If fifteen-thousand was not much then..., "A hundred thousand?"

"A Dead Apostle disposal contract pays between two-to-three hundred thousand pounds sterling at a minimum," Rin corrected. "And an Enforcer Squad can easily handle ten such cases per a year. Contracts of direct interest to the Mage's Association pay more. A lot more. Our current contract is three-million pounds up front and the same again on completion. That is ignoring the monthly dividends, which amount to another one-point-five million per annum."

I swallowed the numbers, feeling dizzy. How many pounds were there to a dollar again? I tried to recall the effects on the British currency after the Simurgh visited London, but my hazy memories of Mr. Gladly's lesson were overshadowed by Madison's gum and Julia's giggling. No. It didn't really matter. Unit 09 made millions. Multiple millions, per a year, every year. No wonder Rin scoffed when Brian offered her a bare two-thousand. That was hardly more than pocket change to her.

That was when it clicked. The Undersiders were small time. Hell, the Merchants were small time. Shirou had estimated their revenue at ten-million, twice what Unit 09 pulled but split amongst a hundred hands.

Unit 09 played in a completely different league.

"Parahumans are specialists, Taylor." Rin said. "You have powers that no ordinary human can possess. No matter how you look at it, a parahuman should be paid like a professional athlete."

"But isn't that wrong? I mean, could Alexandria and Legend really call themselves heroes if they charged a million dollars every time they fought an Endbringer?"

Rin's words struck a nerve. I could see what she was getting at, but my gut curdled at the thought. To charge money to help went against everything a superhero stood for. The notion was _profane_.

Rin's eyes narrowed.

"Sacrifice is noble thing, Taylor. But to demand it when that sacrifice is not necessary is nothing short of exploitation," she said, her tone growing sharper with every word. "The people, the government, the entire system is taking parahumans for granted. Despite setbacks, this world is more than wealthy enough to pay its parahumans fairly. I am not saying that it has to make them filthy rich. But at the very least, when sending them against creatures like the Endbringers, it should offer life insurance!"

I jerked back at Rin's fury. At that moment, I grasped her character. Rin was lazy, greedy, consumed by her own goals often to the detriment of others. She expected everyone else to get out of her way or fall in line. But that was just the surface. Underneath boiled a fiery sense of justice.

When Rin saw something broken, she wanted to fix it. That was why she fought Lung. That was why she bulldozed her way into my school life. That was why she got so angry when she heard I jumped over the gate. It was because she cared. Deeply. With a burning passion.

No wonder Rin fit with Shirou and Saber. In that aspect, they were all the same.

Rin let out a heavy sigh. "The Protectorate is hurting itself with this heroism nonsense. In any proper economy, parahumans should net more by working inside the law rather than outside it. By setting the rewards for cooperation too low, the government only serves to create the exact criminal element it is working so hard to eliminate."

My eyes drifted down the hall, catching glimpse of Brian and Alec as they were working. That much I could agree with. The Undersiders, at the very least, would be less likely to follow a life of crime if the Protectorate paid better. But I did not think it was as simple as Rin said.

The world never was.

"Maybe, but I doubt most of the heroes would agree with that."

If my gut reaction was bad, I could only imagine how the older superheroes would feel.

"Perhaps," Rin mused. Her expression shifted back to seriousness. "Taylor, since we have a moment, do you mind if I check on a few things?"

"Uh... sure?"

Rin reached out a hand and set it on my chest. Green lines swept over the limb. A spell? What the hell? She was not intending to cast –

Rin suddenly stopped.

"Ah," she noised. "I'm going to use a diagnostic mystery. Is that going to be a problem?"

I ground my teeth. Rin should have said that before she started. I forced myself to relax. I knew Rin was bad at keeping track of small details. That didn't mean she didn't care. I had _chosen_ to trust her. She was my team leader. I was not going to let my fear of betrayal – _of_ _Emma Barnes_ – control me.

"Go ahead," I said stiffly.

"Are you sure?" Rin pressed. "I can bring Saber in, if it would make you feel more comfortable."

"Yeah," I said. That did it. Her honest concern made mine melt away. "Yeah. I'm sure. But I might take you up on that when it comes time for hypnosis resistance training."

Rin smiled. "Be sure to remind me. Now, stand still. _A_ _uswerten._ "

A pulse of static spread through me. My circuits tingled, tongues of fire brushing against them. A hot feather tickling skin. Unconsciously, my circuits flexed, prana flowing in reaction. In turn that seemed to push the static aside.

But not by enough to disrupt Rin.

"Good. It looks like you will be fine on that end for now," Rin said pleasantly, drawing her hand back. "Now can you show me that baton Shirou gave you?"

I unclipped the weapon from my belt and handed it over. Rin hummed lightly to herself, while carefully examining all the edges. After a long minute she gave it back.

"If you use this in another fight, it will break," she declared. "Have Shirou replace it immediately, and be sure to have one of us check it regularly in the future. Shirou's weapons are powerful tools, but it would be very bad if you lost it in the middle of battle."

My mind flashed to the knife Shirou gave me, the blade dissolving into motes after it sliced through Armsmaster's halberd. Break. I got it. Yeah, that would _definitely_ be bad. I rubbed my healing arm. Very, very bad.

"What the hell is this thing, if you don't mind me asking?" I said. "I know it is not just a sword or a baton. Holding it gave me some sort of Thinker/Mover power. And I was not the only one who noticed. Armsmaster figured it out as well."

I stared at Rin. The dark haired woman's lips pressed tight. My expression twisted with annoyance.

"Is this some sort of secret?" I demanded.

Rin leaned slightly out the door, checking the hall. Then she pulled it closed. A wave of her arm sent a tingle through me. The air shifted, becoming heavy, stifling.

Definitely a secret.

"The name of that weapon is Taming Sari, meaning Flower Shield," Rin answered. "It is a noble phantasm, a crystallized mystery drawing power from its legend. In its myth, Taming Sari is said to make its wielder physically invulnerable. So the mere act of holding it can be said to be equivalent to carrying an invincible shield."

"I wouldn't exactly call it invincible," I muttered, staring at the baton. Taming Sari, huh. "So Shirou can create magic swords then?"

"Not magic swords, noble phantasms," Rin corrected. She fell into her lecture pose. "A noble phantasm is incomparable in power to a mere mystic code. Where a mystic code is a physical item elevated through the application of prana, a noble phantasm is an illusion or dream brought to being through the weight of legend. Because of this, noble phantasms are able to accomplish deeds that would otherwise be considered impossible. In this way, their existence approaches that of true magic."

If Rin thought she was making things clearer, she was failing miserably.

Rin took a look at my face and huffed.

"Look at it this way. Imagine two knives. The first is normal in every way. The second is exactly the same as the first, except that the blade has been heated until it's red hot."

I nodded to indicate I followed.

"Now, attack with either weapon and they will cut. However, the second knife will also burn. Simple, right? In fact, depending on what you are using it against, the second knife may burn all the way through. In that sense, the second knife is better."

Yeah. That was common sense.

"However, take either blade against a ghost or a thaumaturgic barrier and they will do nothing. Noble phantasms, however, are fundamentally different. When swung, such a blade does not merely cut, but becomes an embodiment of the notion of cutting. Thus, no matter what that weapon encounters, its power will not be in any way diminished," Rin explained. Then she sighed. "It's difficult to explain."

"No, I think I get it," I answered. "A mystic code is like a tinker tech sword. It can definitely be a powerful weapon, but in the end it is just a better sword. A noble phantasm on the other hand, is like a parahuman power. It is deeper. More complete. More versatile. So, even if the two are equal in power or similar in effect, the second is unquestionably greater."

A tool like Taming Sari was not a computer program responding to attacks by rote. It was a living thing. The essence of the notion 'protect' poured into a physical object. Because of that, Taming Sari did not rely on mechanisms like seeing the attack or predicting it. Tricks such as morphing a weapon in the midst of combat did not work. The wielder was defended, therefore the attack was parried. That was the conceptual level on which a noble phantasm functioned.

They were not flawless, though. Armsmaster had shown that quite clearly.

Rin paused. "I suppose that is a good analogy, yes. Though, noble phantasms are not merely greater in breadth, but in function. While it might be possible to equal a low caliber tool like Taming Sari in its current diminished state with a mystic code, noble phantasms are for the most part on a different level."

"Then all the weapons you are carrying, the spear, those hilts, are noble phantasms?"

"No. The black keys are merely mystic codes," Rin corrected.

Wait. Those were mystic codes? Rin's swords had turned Lung's legs to stone. If that was the case, exactly how powerful was Taming Sari?

Suddenly, I found myself wondering if Lisa's 'trump card' pun was not, in fact, a joke.

"That Shirou can create noble phantasms is magus business and is to be kept hidden," Rin said, finally. "If someone asks, tell them that Taming Sari is a mystic code and withhold the name. Unless that person is an expert, it is impossible to tell the difference."

"Got it," I said firmly. Magus business and death were attached at the hip, so this was not an agreement I planned on screwing up. Then I frowned. " _Is_ someone going to ask?"

Rin opened the door and spoke as she walked out. "We are not the only ones from the Mage's Association on this world."

-oOo-

 _ **Enforcer Contract #CIL20100** **9** **-** **6** **:  
** Investigation of possible interdimensional threat: Type-D_

 _In reaction to the incursion events identified in Lagos, Nigeria; Katoomba, Australia; and Fortaleza, Brazil the joint directors of the Mage's Association, in conjunction with the Roman Catholic Church, have opened a formal investigation. The recipient of this contract, Enforcer Unit 09, has been requested to join this investigation in pursuit of the objectives labeled within. Please note that the contents of this contract are secret. Disclosing the contents may result in penalties or sanction._

 _ **Overview**_

 _Enforcer Unit 09 – hereafter referenced as the contractor – shall conduct an investigation of the entity currently classified as 'Type-D'. The purpose of this investigation is to categorize and evaluate the threat presented by the target. Additional investigation of Type-D's progeny – locally identified as 'Parahumans' – is requested. Full details of the investigative requirements are provided in sections **B** and **C** of this document._

 _Preliminary data indicates that this will be a long-term contract. Combat is expected, but should be avoided wherever possible. Due to the nature of the designated world, the Mage's Association has given special permit to the contractor for the public use of thaumaturgy. Knowledge of the Association itself, however, should be restricted from local authorities unless dispensation is granted._

 _A designated Enforcer team will provide the contractor with oversight and local support. Reports will be filed with the governing squad on a monthly basis. Joint duties and independent operational rights are described in section **D** of this document._

 _Cross-world transport and communications are to be provided by the Wizard Marshall Zelretch. These services will be dispensed at his sole discretion. Further resources may be made available upon review by the committee. All other supplies are the responsibility of the contractor including food, equipment, and lodging._

 _A payment of £3.000.000 will be forwarded to the contractor, in the form of tradeable goods, upon arrival on the designated world. An additional payment of £125.000 monthly will accrue in a designated account. Upon completing this contract, a final payout of £3.000.000 shall be delivered. No monies, except the first, will be made in a form accessible to the contractor cross-world. This contract may be canceled at anytime, but if done prior to the termination period of one year, the contractor accepts responsibility for remittance of the initial funds._

 _ **Signature**_

 _This contract has been authorized by the joint union of the Mage's Association and the Roman Catholic Church. By signing this document you agree to all the terms detailed within:_

 _I, Rin Tohsaka on October 3rd, 2010, do formally agree to the terms of this contract on behalf of Enforcer Unit 09._


	7. Chapter 7

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 7**  
-oOo-

A lone cockroach fluttered in the distance. I concentrated, brushing aside a sea of millions in favor of that tiny pin prick. My circuits buzzed. Shimmers of static rolled through the sphere of my power, causing the bug to wink in and out. My control was shaky. In this state, just holding on was hard enough.

Blink in. Blink out. Blink in. Blink –

"Four-hundred sixty-three meters," I murmured when the cockroach failed to reappear. Sitting up, I jotted the data down in my notebook. "Ten less than when I started."

It was Sunday, April 17th, three days past the Undersiders' fumbled bank job. I lazed in the sun, indulging in unseasonable warmth. The bay shimmered beneath me, a hundred meters down from the cliff-side that marked the end of Unit 09's backyard. Far away, Rin's familiar turned on its wing, feeding information – including exact distances in meters – into my brain through the connection Rin helped forge.

Four-hundred and sixty-four meters away, the cockroach hidden in the familiar's belly reentered my range. Again the distance changed.

"What am I doing different?" I grumbled.

Was it my mood? I had confirmed at the start of the experiment that my range varied with my mental state. Since then, I had tried several times to change my thoughts, but my inept attempts at control did little more than make my range drop further.

Which was why I had shifted my efforts to something far more exciting.

I had a total of thirteen circuits. Eight could be used for traditional magecraft. The other five attached the core of my power. When called upon, they caused my power to fluctuate. Yesterday, Rin ran me through a series of stress tests to verify their usage was safe. Today, I was cleared to play as I pleased.

And play I did.

Saber's schooling started on Monday, which gave me one full day to experiment as I willed. I had devoted myself in an instant. Several hours of training had taught me that I could trade power, control, and range in a shitty two-for-one deal for one another. If I went for range, I doubled it. Unfortunately, in doing so, I lost not only my ability to control higher end insects, but also my ability move them with precision.

Not bad, but limited. Thing was, I was certain I could do more. My current approach felt wasteful, inefficient. I was losing more than I had to. Rather than two-for-one, I was confident I could trade features on a one-for-one basis. But, try as I might, I failed to reach it.

It was as though I were throwing darts at board. I knew I could hit the bullseye. But, each time I threw, the dart went astray. The more I struggled, the more frustrated I became, and the harder the task seemed to get.

Yet, I remained sure that my target could be reached.

A deep growl rumbled in my throat. I released the tension in my circuits and readied to try again.

The mansion's back door opened. A miserable Brian plodded out. With a sigh, I abandoned my efforts. I probably wouldn't make more headway today anyway.

"Rin finally let you go?"

Brian groaned then dropped heavily into a chair beside me. "Ugh. How do you put up with all the poking and prodding?"

My lips quirked. It was nice to be on the other side of Rin induced misery for once. That, and it was a lot more amusing seeing the effects in retrospect.

"Well, getting better powers helps," I offered.

"Huh?" Brian noised. "Yeah. Lisa mentioned something about that."

I frowned. "Rin didn't open your circuits?"

"Rin did _something_ , but hell if I know what it was," Brian complained.

Wow. That sucked. I had figured that Brian and the rest were getting the same deal as me. Going through all that and having nothing to show for it? Ouch.

Brian must have read my look of pity.

"Don't worry about it. Can't expect Rin to give the Undersiders the same benefits she gives her team," Brian brushed off. The dark skinned man stood and stretched out. "I'm about to hit the road. Need a ride?"

I thought about it. There were a good number of hours left in the day, and I had plans. On the other hand, it was Sunday. That, and I really didn't want to get another lecture from Rin about prana exhaustion much less experience the condition myself.

"Yeah, actually, that would be nice." I got up. "Mind if we stop by the market and pick up something as we go?"

"No problem," Brian said. "What you looking for?"

"A good combat knife. Saber suggested I get one before we hit the bank, but I never made it out. Figured I ought to take care of that chore before something else comes up."

Brian nodded, lips pressed in consideration. "I know a place. They might be reluctant to sell to minors, but that shouldn't be a problem as long as I'm with you."

"Thanks," I said honestly. I stood then paused. "Can you could give me a second?"

Not waiting for an answer, I held out an arm. With a mechanical whirl, Rin's familiar hooked the limb with its jeweled claws. I sank under its weight. The clockwork contraption was crafted from amethyst and fashioned into the shape of an owl. The claws were blunted. The skin gleamed in the light. I was pretty sure that the damn thing was too heavy to fly, but it managed the task nonetheless.

Rin's familiar in arm, I poked my head in through the back door.

"I'm headed home!"

My voice echoed through the mansion. I gave Unit 09 ten seconds to reply, then set Rin's owl on a counter.

"Okay, we can head off."

We piled into Brian's car. Brockton Bay's market was built on the northern part of the Boardwalk, overlooking the bay. It was a beautiful place and one of the safest in the city, despite how close it was to the Docks. We pulled into a half empty lot then entered a small concrete shop named Brockton's Guns and Sports. A security guard gave me the stink eye, but Brian waved him away as though saying _she_ _'_ _s with me_.

The store was full of guns.

Rifles. Pistols. There were dozens of firearms hidden behind thick glass. Ammunition. Bows of the form compound, recurve, and cross. The back half of the store was filled with camping equipment. I glanced around for a bit, taking in the sights and making a mental checklist of what might be useful later. Then I headed over to the section with knives. There was an entire wall dedicated to them, fancy blades, daggers balanced for throwing, and rugged weapons made for combat.

I studied each and came to the quick conclusion that I didn't know shit about knives.

Well, there was one way to fix that.

I placed a hand on a promising package. " _Anfang Ader_ ," I whispered under my breath.

Prana flowed out my finger tips, infiltrating metal and plastic. Three days had afforded plenty of time for traditional practice. While my talent with Reinforcement remained crap, my skill with Structural Analysis had grown by leaps and bounds.

Which, I suppose, was to be expected given my element was Information.

Steel. Mass produced, but strong. The metal had been treated to resist corrosion. But that was the end of the weapon's good features. The edge had been sharpened by grinding. Worse, the excellent blade had been welded to poor steel set in the hilt.

I cringed. One good shot and that knife would break.

I moved onto the next.

Then the one after.

It took five trials before I found a knife I liked.

"This one," I said.

I pulled the package from the wall and handed it to Brian.

Brian's lips quirked. "Sure you don't need to a little look longer?"

"No. I'm good," I said with authority.

We headed toward the register.

"Didn't take you for a knife expert," Brian said, looking at me curiously.

Brian put the blade on the desk and slapped down some bills. The man behind the register glared at me suspiciously, but rung the two of us anyway.

"I'm not," I said, walking out the door. "It's something Rin and Shi–"

 _Ka-BOOM!_

A giant pulse slammed into my shoulder, throwing me into Brian's bulk. Brian stumbled, then caught himself before we both hit concrete. My ears popped. Frozen air swept over my skin, numbing my cheeks and exposed surfaces.

"The fuck?" I gasped. I could barely hear my own voice over the tinny ringing in my ears.

 _Boom. B-boom. B-Boom._

Distant bursts rolled like thunder. Deep and heavy, they shook me at my core. For an instant I mistook them for echoes. Then I realized that they were repetitions. More explosions ensued all around the city.

"Holy shit that was close," Brian breathed.

Brian was staring across the street. A two floored restaurant overlooking the bay – Franky's Fish Shack – had been cracked open like an egg. From inside grew a jagged tower of ice. Frigid mist rolled off the surface in a thick fog. _C-c-crack_. The pillar splintered, sending a half a ton of frozen matter smashing back down through the building's roof.

My heart ceased to beat. How many people were still inside? How many just died? How many more would meet their end if they received no help?

Unbidden, I lurched forward.

Brian grabbed my arm.

"Taylor. Leave it!" Brian barked. "That's none of our business."

"But...," I muttered in a daze. "What about..."

My body quivered. My mind scattered. The concussive blast had rattled my brain. On top of mayhem was stacked confusion, uncertainty, and the desperate need to do something.

"We don't know if anyone is in there," Brian said reasonably. "It's five past three, well after lunch and too early for the dinner rush to start."

I took a breath and closed my eyes. Yeah. Brian was right. But that didn't mean I couldn't check.

I reached for my power.

Bugs stirred with my will. My emotions dissolved into the swarm, leaving me calm and focused. Find them, I ordered. The horde surged to search. Internally, I cursed myself. Over the past week I had been teaching myself scents, but there were only so many I could learn in a day. The scent of blood had yet to make my list.

Stupid. It should have been one of the first.

Slowly, humans pinged on my awareness. One. Two. Three. I could feel the pressure of the passing seconds.

"Seven. There are seven inside," I relayed. My mouth was dry. I licked my lips, trying to find moisture. "But three are dead and one..."

I felt sick.

"Fuck!" Brian cursed. The black man paced back and forth. "Okay. You think they can hold out until the heroes arrive?"

 _Crack. Crash._ Another chunk of ice fell, this time smashing through an awning and onto an outside dining area.

Brian and I winced.

"The other three maybe," I hedged. "But the last is going to bleed out in the next ten minutes. If I get to him, I know enough first aid that I think I might be able to help."

Brian looked up at the towering ice. His expression twisted. I could hear the deep rumble as the mass shifted. It would not stand for long.

"I don't like it. There is no way to know when that's coming down. We go in there, we could both die, and that won't do anyone any good."

I wanted to argue but, honestly, I agreed. Staying here was the smart thing to do. But I didn't become a hero because it was smart. I had joined Unit 09 to help people. Instead, on my first big mission, I had played the villain. I didn't regret doing it. I liked Lisa. I liked Brian. I wasn't so sure about Alec and Rachel, but on the whole the Undersiders were decent people.

But my goal remained the same. To be a hero.

And how could I call myself a hero if I walked away from this? By doing so, I would be condemning the four inside to death. I asked myself what would Rin or Shirou say. Probably the same thing Brian said...

Then the two of them would have dived into the building anyway.

What would Saber say?

To have courage and to do what was right.

"I'm going in," I said firmly.

A street intended for pedestrian traffic divided Brockton's Guns and Sports from Franky's Fish Shack. What few cars had slipped onto the road were jammed up. Shaken onlookers gawked at the twisted pillar, pointing and snapping photos with their phones. The thin crowd cringed back as flakes of ice fell, crashing onto the ground with the sound of thunder.

Sneakers pounded on concrete. "Taylor," Brian called as he caught up behind.

I did not give him a glance.

"I've got a first aid kit in my utility pack. Get it," I ordered.

Brian waffled for a second, unsure. "Shit," he cursed, before running for the car.

I approached the restaurant, heart hammering in my chest. I felt naked. Exposed. No costume. No mask. Only the hope that no one would snap a picture as I entered and connect me to Overmind. Funny how that fear was the most prominent. I suppose what they said was true. All teenagers believe they are immortal. Logically, I knew I could die. But it lacked emotional weight. On some level, I rejected the thought.

As I moved, I spread my bugs.

Insects crept into Franky's Fish Shack, mapping the interior, finding an unbroken path. I neared the front door, ignored it, then slipped around the back.

" _Anfang Ader,"_ I breathed, eight lines of fire igniting in my soul. " _Anfang_ _Kä_ _fer_."

Eight circuits were joined by five more. A shockwave flowed through my soul. My senses warbled, bugs twisting in and out of view in cacophonous harmonics. I waited for the flow to steady. Then I seized five of my circuits and twisted them inside of me.

My range halved. Awareness was obscured by fog. The strength of my power increased.

I altered my power again. A hundred meters of reach fell to a mere sixty. Vision blinked out. I was blind. No longer could I see through my bugs, though I could still feel their presence. It was vaguer though, an accuracy measured in a handful of centimeters where it had once been millimeters.

New, fuzzy critters shifted at the edge of my awareness. They were out of tune and just beyond the threshold of my control. But I knew that if I twisted my power right, I would claim them as my own.

I took a steadying breath, then named my spell to improve my focus. "Structural Analysis."

The application of thaumaturgy was bound by the principles of leverage. The further I extended my reach, the more fragile a spell became. I was new to magecraft. An expert like Shirou could use Structural Analysis on a radius as broad as three meters. In contrast, an untalented newbie like myself was limited a fifth that at best.

Unless, of course, I cheated.

From a metaphysical perspective, my bugs were indistinguishable from familiars. Amongst the variety of fun things that implied, that meant I could use them as a vector for certain forms of thaumaturgy. Unfortunately, my power was naturally limited by how the prana dispersed through my swarm. To put it in layman's terms, my bugs had next to no leverage.

Unless I intentionally increased that leverage by, say, trading range and control for power.

Prana flowed through the building's structure, feeding rivers of data directly into my brain. I filtered through the stream, picking up no more than faint fragments of the whole. I could feel the struts and walls. The restaurant consisted of two floors. The second formed a rim around the first, with a balcony overlooking the bay. The main room had a towering ceiling, now ripped open by the pillar of ice. Support beams slumped into the interior, blocking access to the front door.

But I already knew that. I needed more.

I quested deeper.

The building was fractured, split along a crack that cut the restaurant into two parts. The entry way was completely destroyed, the main hall a death trap of weakened beams straining under the structure's weight. The back end of Franky's Fish Shack leaned to the North. Strong. Robust. The steel firewall that separated the kitchen from the dining area provided ample support. It would not fall.

The ice pillar was another story entirely. The foot of the column had sunk into soft sand, frozen tendrils spreading throughout the ground water. Not enough. The pillar was beginning to list. The problem was not the bottom but the top. The weight of the column's upper half was set off center. The flash freezing of air and water had left copious cracks, and those fractures were propagating through the core.

And worst of all, when the column fell, it would come straight down on the kitchens and the four living souls still within.

When? I pushed harder, trying to grasp ephemeral information. Static knives stabbed into my brain. I grit my teeth and endured. When? _When?_ The notions I needed fluttered just out of reach.

With sick recognition, I realized I had neither the skill nor the time to find it.

" _Beenden_ _._ "

All thirteen circuits went quiet. I staggered. Empty, icy veins were left in place of lava. I gasped, startled by how much the spell took out of me. I allowed myself one breath to recover then promptly dissolved my emotions into my swarm.

I burst into a run. There was no time for hesitation. I skipped past the rear door, knowing that it was jammed in place by two and a half tons of weight. Instead I seized a broken plank and used it to smash open a window. I rattled my tool back and forth for a fews seconds, clearing away broken glass before vaulting inside.

An untouched sliver cut my palms, drawing blood. I ignored it. Nothing Saber couldn't fix.

I landed in the kitchen.

There were four employees inside. Two boys. Two girls. All in uniform. One of the boys was pinned to the ground, leg crushed by a metal table and the caved in ceiling above. A jagged hunk of ice lay across the ground between us, body thick enough to come up to my waist. Fluorescent lights swayed above, half the tubes shattered, the remainder hanging from their wires. The fact that the electricity was still on would have horrified me, if I had not known about the crisis quite literally looming over our heads.

"One two. Heave! One two. Heave!"

A heavy set man – likely the manager from his age and dress – shouted, pushing in tandem with the pretty, young waitress at his side. The two were desperately trying to move the bulwark of collapsed wood to free the boy below. It was an incredible, admirable sight. One I would not have believed could happen in Brockton Bay if asked a moment before.

It was also exactly the wrong thing to do.

"Stop!" I shouted. "If you move that the ceiling will–"

The manager whirled, face red from exertion. "Who? Girl! What the hell are you doing here? Get the hell out!" Then, as though dismissed, he turned back to the bulwark. "One two. Heave!"

"Jesse. Jesse hold on. Don't leave me. You gotta hold on."

The final employee, a cute redheaded waitress held the pinned boy's hand. The boy clutched back, fist squeezing so tight I was amazed the girl's hand didn't break. He hardly seemed aware, his brow covered in sweat and his face twisted by pain and agony.

"I said stop!" I shouted. "You're never going to move that, and if you did–"

"I told you to leave!" the manager shouted.

"Listen to her."

The voice was deep and muffled by a motorcycle helmet. Grue. While I had been breaking in, he must have run back to the car to throw on his costume. Half a costume anyway. Grue was wearing his mask and motorcycle jacket, but was still in his blue jeans from before.

The room stopped. With three words, Grue captured the audience in a way I could not. Of course he did. He was a cape. And all capes, hero or villain, demanded automatic respect in a way a fifteen year old girl did not.

My feelings floated between grateful and exasperated.

Well, at least no one realized I had powers.

Grue gestured to me with his head, handing me the proverbial podium. I took a deep breath. Everyone was listening now and I couldn't afford to falter.

"You can't move those debris. See how the roof is tilted?" I gestured toward the ceiling. "Half the building is resting on top of it. Its too heavy, and even if you could, the whole thing would slide toward us."

The waitress who had been helping push took a second to rest while the heavy set manager looked up, studying the restaurant's shattered frame. He turned wary eyes toward Grue. I guess being a kid made me untrustworthy.

"You heard her," Grue said, authoritatively.

"But Jesse," the redheaded girl whimpered. "We can't leave Jesse."

 _C-crack._ Splintering thunder roared from above. _Rumble-umble._ A heavy sound reverberated through my chest. My heart stopped. Body tense, I waited. Nothing. No falling ice. No further sounds. I let out a breath and relaxed.

But that would not be true for long.

I glanced toward Grue. He returned a subtle look. I gave a tiny shake of my head.

"We don't have much time," Grue said, his deep voice filling the room. "Bakuda hit this place hard. But the bomb she used was no ordinary bomb. It was a tinker-tech bomb. Right now we have a pillar of ice overhead, just like that one on the ground over there but a hundred times bigger. Sooner or later it's going to come down, and when it does everyone still inside is dead."

Grue cast his gaze over the group, making sure he was understood. The manager and the first waitress, the brunette who had been helping, seemed to accept it. The redhead though, just shook her head, refusing to believe.

"What about the boy?" the manager said.

"We leave him behind," Grue said firmly. "Better three than none."

"I can't," the redhead cried. Her body trembled. "I can't leave Jesse."

This was stupid. I turned my back on the drama and started moving through the kitchen, looking for anything useful.

The manager gripped the girl's shoulder firmly.

"You heard the cape."

"No," the redhead said, still refusing to listen. Tears poured from her eyes, streaking her cheeks with mascara. "If we leave, Jesse will die."

It was Jesse who gave the last push.

"Go," he coughed. The boy struggled to sit up and shove the girl away. "I said go!"

I returned to the scene. With a firm hand, I guided the redhead to the side.

"Out of the way."

Without another word, I knelt by Jesse's feet. With my right hand, I raised the tool I took from a kitchen drawer. A butcher knife. It was thick, heavy, and designed to chop through an animal's bone in a single stroke. I scrutinized Jesse's crushed leg and picked a spot just below the knee.

"Grit your teeth," I warned.

Then I swung. Hard.

Jesse's scream was deafening.

The knife cut into Jesse's shin with a meaty thud. Metal snagged on bone. I pulled, first with one hand, then with two. The blade wrenched free. I swung again. Then a third time. Each blow with my full weight behind it.

Finally, mutilated flesh separated from Jesse's intact knee.

I stood, casting my tool aside with a clatter. There was blood on my glasses. I raised an arm and rubbed it away with my shirt. It helped a little. Mostly, it just smeared the blood around.

"You can move him now."

Dead silence.

Everyone was staring at me. I felt my temper rise. What the hell were they doing? Where they just going to stand around and watch their coworker bleed out on the floor?

"I said hurry the hell up and move him!"

Grue jumped into motion and seized Jesse under the arms. He half lifted the boy off the ground before shooting a look at the manager.

"Help me with him," he ordered. Then Grue turned to the rest of us. "You three, get out of here. And be careful when moving through the window, there is still glass along the edge."

"I'll show you where it is," I said, taking the lead.

We moved in an organized procession. No one talked. The two girls refused to so much as look in my direction. The grim atmosphere fit the situation. As the first one out, I watched the window and the pillar of ice with an anxious eye, jumping at every crack and groan.

Grue worked his way through the window, then helped Jesse out head first. The boy's bottom half flopped to the ground. The brunette rushed over to help, picking up the rear end and assisting Grue in moving Jesse a dozen meters away. The manager heaved, struggling to push his greater mass through the aperture.

 _C-crack! ... Bang!_ Ice splintered. The mass shifted. Then all at once, the pillar's center exploded. With a deep, rumbling roar, the tower teetered. The manager went wide eyed, then threw himself through the window, abandoning all attempts to avoid injury. I rushed thoughtlessly forward, grabbed his hand, then wrenched him from the ground.

A shadow loomed over us. We ran. Crumbling ice rained down in boulder sized hunks, turning Franky's Fish Shack into so much tinder. The pillar fell. Sound and ice buffeted everything. Frozen bricks were thrown in all directions. One slapped me in the shoulder, knocking me off balance. I stumbled, then hit the ground in a roll.

Dizzily, I looked back to see the entire tower was down. The column of shattered ice stopped five meters from my feet. I gulped.

Strong hands pulled me up.

"That was close," Grue said.

There was a quip on my lips about having plenty of space, but my heart was beating so fast that I could only manage a nod.

"You should head back to the car," Grue whispered. "None of them have picked it up yet, but sooner or later someone is going to start wondering if you're a cape."

"Jesse," I huffed. My hands were shaking from the adrenaline. "You–"

"Get to the car, Taylor," Grue interrupted. "I've had a class on first aid. I know what to do."

Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded a second time. With a final glance, I slipped around another building then crossed the street. I sat on the hood of Grue' car and waited. Time helped me calm. The crowd gathered around the fish shack was thicker than before. Sirens sounded, rushing nearer. The pedestrian body parted for an ambulance and cops.

I was starting to worry if Grue would get away when Brian popped open the door of the back seat and quickly threw his helmet and jacket inside. Reading the mood, I opened my door and slipped within. Brian slid into the driver's side seat beside me. A few seconds later we were exiting the far end of the parking lot.

"Thanks for the help."

Brian gave me a genial smile. "No need for thanks. The Undersiders and Unit 09 are allies, and it would make a poor showing if I didn't lend a hand."

I shook my head. "No. I mean it. Thanks. If I had gone in there alone..."

I would be dead. My heart started racing just thinking about it. I didn't want to die. Not like that. I didn't regret what I did, but coming to an end? Not what I wanted. There were too many things to do. Magecraft to learn. Sparring practice with Saber. Time with my Dad...

Suddenly, I went blank. When did that happen? When did I start looking forward to tomorrow?

No, rather than that, when did I stop?

"You okay?" Brian asked. He sounded worried.

"I'm fine."

"No, really Taylor," Brian pressed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Brian," I repeated, a little annoyed.

If anything, I was better than I had been in a long time.

"Okay, if you say so I won't push," Brian said, backing off. He directed the car around a corner then into second parking lot. "Taylor, I'm going to pull over for a bit and call the others. I have to see if anyone on my team needs my help."

I nodded. "I should probably check in with the others as well."

-oOo-

Brian didn't take me home. Instead, we both went to the Undersiders' hideout. The others were already bustling inside, Shirou and Saber included. Shirou had his maps spread out on a table. I squeezed into the group. Saber nodded in greeting and set a hand on my shoulder.

I could feel the cuts in my hand healing.

Shirou noticed our entrance.

"Everyone here?" Shirou called out, looking over the group. "Good. I want to move out immediately. The ABB has set off bombs all over the city, either in an attempt to assert their dominance or as a distraction to free Lung. No matter the case, the result is the same. Their activity is going to set off a full scale gang war, and that means we use our intelligence now or never."

My gut wanted to take the fight to the ABB. They had trashed my city, nearly killed four right in front of me, and had succeeded in killing countless more. But my rational side agreed with Shirou's point. It would be frustrating to watch weeks of work go up in flames. And, as good as it would feel to hit the ABB back, trying to target them without intelligence was more likely to end up useless than helpful.

Brian frowned and scanned the room. "Where are Rin and Lisa?"

"Rin and Lisa are in the middle of a mission. They'll join us when they finish," Shirou supplied.

"Little strange to do that right now, don't you think?" Brian questioned.

"Rin's work is related to our larger contract, which takes precedence," Saber answered. "We should be more than suitable for the task."

Brian nodded with acceptance then waited for Shirou to continue.

"We'll divide into two squads to maximize our impact. The first, Alpha, will be headed by me. The second, Beta, will be lead by Saber. Saber is providing vehicular transport for her unit, as such I will be taking Rachel and Alec–"

"Better if you take me instead of Alec," Brian interrupted. He glared at the heavy set girl. "Rachel can be hard to control."

Rachel shot a nasty look back, but said nothing.

Shirou considered for a moment, then nodded. "Then Alpha squad will consist of Rachel, Brian, and myself while Beta squad will be Saber, Taylor, and Alec. Any issues?"

I looked at Alec curiously. I had no clue as to what was his power. Come to think of it, I didn't know most of the Undersiders' powers. Saber, though, was more than enough to keep us safe.

The curly haired pretty boy shrugged apathetically. "I'm good."

"Same here," I echoed.

"Then it's settled. Alpha will be targeting Merchant bases in the North, specifically Squealer's workshops here and here," Shirou said pointing at target locations just south of the Trainyard. "Beta will start by destroying the Merchants' primary armory, then move on to dismantle additional assets in their territory near the Docks. Our goal is to force a confrontation with the Merchants' parahumans. Once this is achieved, the engaging team will proceed with delaying tactics until support arrives.

"Questions?"

"Yeah," Brian said, he pushed forward. "This looks like more targets then we can hit in one night, even with two teams."

"I have leaked the location of the Merchants' low value assets to the PRT," Saber responded. "Though, for obvious reasons, we cannot expect the PRT or the Protectorate to act on that information in the next few days."

Yeah, there was no way in hell the Protectorate was going to divert heroes to drug houses when it had the ABB running amok.

"And that means?" Brian pressed.

"Anything listed as D or below can be ignored," Shirou answered.

I leaned over the map and tried to re-familiarizing myself with all the dots. "How are we going to destroy the armory? I don't think anyone has a power suitable for it."

I searched the group for contradiction. I found none.

"A most wise question," Saber observed. "I am capable of such an act, but not without great consideration. Shirou, do you possess a weapon suitable in your arsenal?"

Shirou offered a hatchet. The shaft glinted with gold, while the blade glowed with orange heat.

"I have already provided the necessary prana and altered the weapon to allow the triggering of its mystery," Shirou explained. "Embed the blade in the floor of the basement then break off the handle. You should have thirty seconds to retreat after. Anything left inside will be turned to ash. If you do not use it within the next three hours, throw it into the ocean before it becomes unstable."

Saber took the hatchet and slipped it into her belt. The blade didn't burn the blonde, despite the heat I could feel radiating off it from three feet away.

"Is that all?" Shirou asked. The redhead waited a moment for the murmurs to settle. "Then we will start the operation in ten minutes. Taylor."

The Undersiders melted, fading into their rooms to put on costumes and prep equipment. Saber remained at my side, eyes closed, meditative, calm as a lake in still air. I watched Shirou curiously, wondering why he held me back.

He formed three knives out of nothing. I knew the blade. Each was a copy of the holdout weapon I wielded against Armsmaster.

"Its name is Nanatsu-Yoru and its mystery is to cut a line of death."

Death. That word again. "You don't think we'll have to kill anyone, do you?"

"It is better to have and need not, than to need and have not," Saber answered. The blonde did not stir in her serenity.

"Our goal is to capture the Merchants alive, but if it's a choice between you and them, I expect you to choose you," Shirou elaborated. "Use them as you see fit. However, if you use Nanatsu-Yoru on a human, don't expect them to survive."

I took the knives warily, then headed into a back room to throw on my costume. I crinkled my nose when I pulled the spider silk over my limbs. It stank of sweat and blood. I had cleaned what I could, but I could never quite get rid of the gore I vomited into my mask during my fight with Lung.

Checking all my equipment one last time, I headed out to the Undersiders' main room.

It was quiet. Regent lazed on the couch, white venetian mask and silver cornet reflecting incandescent light. He turned to face me as I walked in. I nodded, first to him then to Saber.

"Where are the others?" I asked, glancing around.

"They left while you were taking your time," Regent said. His lips curled with wry humor. " _Girls._ "

I fired back with a nasty glare. I had been in the back for no more than a handful of minutes. The only reason I hadn't made it out faster than him was because I had been the last to change.

"We best make haste," Saber commanded. "Our foe is best struck while he is off balance."

As one, we stepped out the door.

-oOo-

 _ **Structural Analysis** – A thaumaturgic mystery used to collect data by spreading prana throughout an object. Skilled use increases the speed of application, the area of effect, and the depth at which information is collected._

 _A novice user of the mystery can obtain information from an object at touch, usually requiring several seconds or even minutes if aiming for more subtle details. Data on the object's construction and physical characteristics is most easily accessed, but information on an object's history can be obtained by a master, allowing the effective equivalent of psychometry._

 _Masters of the mystery, such as Shirou, can use Structural Analysis at a range or on broad areas, allowing data collection over several feet. The speed of execution can be reduced to mere milliseconds, effectively rendering the mystery instantaneous. More importantly, the entire history of an object can be revealed, allowing the user to effectively see into the past and learn what would otherwise be impossible._


	8. Chapter 8

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 8**  
-oOo-

I took shotgun while Regent slinked into the back. Moments later, Saber's black sedan pulled out of the back alley parking lot and slipped effortlessly into traffic. Triple checking my equipment, I shot glances in Regent's direction.

"You don't have to be shy," Regent teased. His voice was smug, tinted with acrid humor. "Feel free admire me all you like."

My nose wrinkled in disgust. Regent was lithe and pretty enough. I could admit, he had a figure that made some girls go _kyeaah_. But...

"You aren't my type."

"Then why are you still staring?" Regent mocked.

I scowled. Regent's joke was starting to annoy.

"I was just checking to see if you were armed."

Regent raised his scepter. _Bzzt!_ Blue light flickered at the tip. Right. Taser. I had a vague recollection of that.

I frowned. "Is that all?"

Regent offered a great shrug.

I looked at him questioningly then glanced at Saber.

"We do not presently have any further armaments," Saber answered firmly, eyes on the road.

I glanced down at my belt. There was no point handing Regent a copy of Nanatsu-Yoru. It was a good knife, but without the ability to utilize prana, he couldn't trigger it anyway. And there was no way in hell I was going to part with Taming Sari. Call me selfish, but I was more worried about my life than Regent's. That left my brand new combat knife. I was reluctant to give it up, but right now I was swimming in blades.

"Here."

I offered the knife hilt first.

Regent waved it off. "No point. If anyone gets close and a taser can't take care of it, I'm dead anyway."

I stared in disbelief. "At least your power is good, right?"

"Not really," Regent replied, his arrogant posture refusing to shift. "I can fuck with other people's nervous system. Make them misstep. Throw off their aim. Stuff like that. Nothing special compared to Saber over there."

"A potent power, if used with the correct support, however one that is not suitable for direct conflict," Saber observed. "Overmind, I will task you to protect Regent when we enter conflict."

"I'll be in your care," Regent added, with a mocking tone.

Great. I turned to the front and sank into my chair. Saber navigated the streets with smooth grace, flowing through disrupted traffic. I could hear sirens in every direction. We came to a stop. A moment later a fire truck flashed through the intersection. I traced its path to a column of smoke rising five kilometers to the west.

Saber turned right and we left behind brick buildings in favor of cruddy shacks. Gang signs covered everything. Boarded up houses, mailboxes, and corner stores were smeared with decades of paint written on and over time and again. I barely recognized the place in the daylight, and what I saw only confirmed it as a shit hole far worse than I had previously imagined.

Closing my eyes, I focused on my power. We were still a couple miles away away from our target, which meant it was too soon to build a proper swarm. Instead, I directed flying critters toward our destination as we drove past, creating a thin cloud of stinging death.

Saber pulled into an abandoned gas station then turned the car off. "We will proceed the remainder on foot."

"We have to walk?" Regent whined. Despite his words, he unbuckled his seat belt and stepped outside.

"I will not leave my ship prey to enemy forces," was Saber's retort.

"Better this than we have no ride after the fight," I explained.

Saber nodded in firm approval while striding forward. "Overmind, scout ahead."

"Got it," I said, falling into step behind her.

All around me, insects surged. Sensory data filtered through my brain. Sight and touch dominated, granting me a scratchy, three-hundred and sixty degree view of the space two-hundred and forty meters surrounding us. A flick of thought and I had perfect count of every human in my sphere of influence. A second called forth a haze of data. Scents and smells.

Learning to use olfactory information was a challenging task. If I paced myself, I could pick up four or five scents a day before suffering a Thinker headache. Adding to that challenge was the fact that insects came in a variety of species. That meant, in order to truly master a smell, I needed to replicate my lessons across the breadth of my swarm.

I had started with what I already knew – gun powder and marijuana. From there, I had branched out into the scent of people. Myself. My Dad. Rin. Shirou. My long term plan was to teach myself to track any human by scent and to know definitively all those who stepped into the bounds of my horde.

Not that I had much luck with that so far...

But I had hope.

Nevertheless, it was that training that keyed me in before anything else.

"They've got two pickup trucks parked out front. Seven... no, ten guys. They're filling the backs with guns and ammunition," I announced.

We were close enough to glimpse the train tracks. Our target – the tiny blue shack that was the Merchants' armory – was further out, impossible to see from where we were standing. My swarm, however, had eyes on everything. Merchants moved in teams, tossing duffel bags filled with guns and boxes overflowing with ammunition onto the back of their flat bed trucks.

With a start, I realized we were seconds away from being too late.

"Shit," I cursed, bursting into a light jog. "They're about to leave!"

The driver of the first truck had already crawled inside the front seat. Two of his buddies had taken up gunner positions in the rear bed of his truck. The crew manning the second truck were still chatting, but I could sense the unrelenting flow as they prepared to leave.

Like hell I was going to let them escape with that kind of firepower.

"Delay them," Saber ordered in a snap. "I will flank the enemy to prevent retreat."

I barely heard her. My plan was already in motion. A dozen eastern carpenter bees were joined by a horde of four-toothed mason wasps. A thick, carpet formation swept between the Merchants and their second truck, causing the four heavily armed men to rear back in alarm.

I split my swarm, dark arms stretching out in ghostly tentacles. One swirled into the cabin of the empty truck, filling the interior with buzzing hornets. The second limb struck at gunmen and driver. Stinging. Biting. Attacking every exposed surface. The gangbangers screamed and flailed. One emptied his assault rifle into the air in a wild spray. The untouched onlookers cringed in horror, unable to summon the will to escape.

The lone driver gunned his engine.

Maybe it was panic. Maybe he just had the guts to endure. Given that he had no more than a dozen insects in the cabin with him, I was betting on the latter. The driver swatted at my minions with fury even as he peeled away from the house. Wheels shrieked with burning rubber. The sudden jolt threw the gunmen off the truck's back and sent a box of munitions tumbling onto the driveway.

Truck and Merchant shot around the corner, rushing down the road straight toward us.

Regent twitched his hand to the right.

The driver's steering wheel jerked in the same direction. Metal screamed in protest at the sudden motion. The truck turned sharply, body twisting, rear rising high into the air. Then the chassis slammed back down onto the road. The vehicle skidded to a stop, throwing sparks the whole way.

" _Pfft_. Moron," Regent insulted callously.

My glower was utterly wasted thanks to my mask. With a flick of thought, I requisitioned a pair of gnats. The tiny critters approached the driver, slipping around the deployed airbag to land just under his nose. He was out cold but breathing.

Hopefully he would stay that way.

I picked up the pace.

The blue house was a near washed out white in the daylight. The old paint was faded and peeling. Half the boards had been exposed to the elements then left to weather for a decade or longer. The windows were intact but covered in a crusted dinge so thick that they were no more than translucent.

The fight had already come to an end.

A rent was torn through the hood of the second truck, the gaping wound cutting through the car's internals, engine block and all. The thugs had been dealt with just as summarily, struck down by Saber's lighting blows then tossed about the grounds like scattered cord wood. _Th-thud._ Two sharp strikes sounded within the house, the last two warriors dispatched in the blink of an eye.

"Good thing she's on our side," Regent said cheerily, nudging a downed thug with his toe.

The gangbanger let out a moan of pain, joining the chorus of whimpers around us. I winced in sympathy. Saber had not so much knocked the thugs unconscious as she had snapped their bones and shattered their will to fight. The summed result formed a macabre display that drew a grimace. My stomach lurched and I had to remind myself that, unlike in the movies, real world heroes didn't have the luxury of knocking their foes unconscious.

Not unless we were willing to kill most of them anyway.

"You're not the one who has to spar with her," I groused. I bent down, hooked an ammunition box's metal handle, then heaved it off the ground. "Come on. We should get these inside so they can be disposed of."

"Nah ah, I didn't sign up for hard labor," Regent retorted. The curly haired pretty boy made a theatrical show of lazing against the broken truck, expertly displaying his unwillingness.

I set the ammo box down and retorted with a nasty glare – which, once again, was wasted by my mask. Why, oh why did I go for a full mask? My mind flashed to Armsmaster, my hornets crawling up his exposed visor. Yeah. That.

Still irritable, I turned my back on Regent and reached for the door knob. My fingers brushed brass just as Saber wrenched the door open. And by wrench, I meant she ripped the wooden plank straight off the frame then threw it haphazardly into the middle of the room. A moment later the tiny blonde strode through the portal, giant steel box – two foot by three – settled on her shoulder.

I stepped out of her way to give her space.

"Anywhere you want me to put this?" I asked, slightly raising my burden.

"If you would relinquish it where you stand, I shall dispose of it momentarily."

She didn't have to tell me twice. The ammunition box was heavy. Dropping the container, I fell in behind Saber.

"Anything you need me to do?"

Saber gave me a measured look. _Clang!_ She dropped the chest onto the ground. The heavy weight cracked cement. "If you would secure this package in a safe location, I will see to the remaining ordnance."

I looked down at the box dubiously.

"Uh, sure," I answered, feeling anything but.

Saber nodded then took off at a jog toward the far vehicle. I bent down and pried one side of the box off the ground with a grunt. There was no way I was moving this on my own. I gave Regent a hard look.

"A little help?" I said testily.

Regent settled an arm over the truck's side imperiously. "What's inside?"

 _Shhiii_ – metal squealed as I dragged the box toward the far edge of the road. "Drugs and money, probably," I said with a grunt.

Regent hopped off the truck and sauntered over to pick up the far side of the box. My pace tripled in an instant.

"And suddenly you're willing to help," I said snidely. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I'm glad we understand each other," Regent retorted with a smug smirk. "At this rate we'll be done with the first date and on to the break up by the end of the week."

"You wish."

Regent laughed. "Don't tell me you want our love life to run on longer?"

"Love life?" With a grunt I swung the chest. "That possibility shriveled up and died before either of us was born."

With a crash, the chest smashed down through a pair of bushes circling the house across the street. I rolled my shoulders and worked out the kinks while watching Saber stride up the road, duffel bag full of guns tucked under an arm. With trivial effort, she pitched the canvas bag through a closed window. Then she did the same with the munitions still stacked in the back of the nearest pickup truck. I turned away as Saber entered the house to see Regent fiddling with the padlock.

"Think we can get this open?" the coroneted cape asked.

"Maybe," I hedged, fingering a copy of Nanatsu-Yoru. "But I would–"

 _CHUUU! Cha!_

I jumped. A train whistle shrieked. My head jerked just in time to see a train engine scream down the track. With a hiss and a screech, the enormous mass suddenly slowed.

The Merchants had arrived. And not just their gangbangers and thugs either. This was the real thing.

The train was a tinker-tech monstrosity best described as the twisted love child of a diesel engine, junkyard beater, and Abrams battle tank. A heavy turret was welded to the engine's top, complete with smooth bored cannon and supplementary machine gun. Half-a-dozen gangbangers manned the rear posts, swinging mounted gun, rifles, and lowly pistols toward us in warning.

With a final chug, the train stopped. The engine's door slid open with a bang.

Skidmark stepped out.

The Merchant leader's costume was a cross between a pimp and skin tight suit. Dark blue leather clung to his scrawny shape, complemented by gold chains. Once, Skidmark might have been handsome. Now no amount of bling could cover the harrowed remains. Chapped lips. Rotting teeth. Drugs had ravaged the man, leaving behind a twisted, bitter husk.

Skidmark canvased the scene before facing us.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded.

Quietly, I drew Taming Sari. At the same time, my left hand slipped around my back to find the two-way radio clipped to my belt. _C-c-click. C-c-click. C-c-click._ I depressed the transmission button in sharp triplets. A prearranged signal. No more communications were needed, thanks to some thaumaturgic bullshit that let Caster, Saber, and Archer share their senses if any one of them had a moment to spare.

Hopefully Alpha team would show up soon, because I felt awful naked standing out in the open with big ass guns pointed at me.

"You know what, I don't give a shit. This is Merchant territory, bitch, and you have a mighty big pair of fucking balls to mess with my men on my territory," Skidmark ranted, flashing his piece in my direction. "But I'm a busy man and right now I'm feeling mighty generous. So I'll give you one chance to get the fuck out of my face or Squealer will turn you into swiss cheese."

Squealer, a young, strung out woman with makeup caked on her face, stuck her head out a side window. "Skidmark baby, we aren't really going to shoot them are we?"

Skidmark's expression twisted as he scowled over a shoulder.

"No, you stupid bitch, it's a figure of speech. A threat. A way to make my fucking point. Christ, and now it's ruined because you can't stick to the god damned script," he shook his head, forehead sinking into an open palm. He gestured thoughtlessly with his gun toward the tall parahuman at his side. "Shit. Trainwreck, get me my guns."

 _Chung._ A steam-punk garbed giant jumped off the back of the train. Trainwreck stood with mechanical motion, the copper tubes extending from his back belching out black smoke. He headed toward the blue house, every step a hiss-thud and mechanical whirl.

"You don't want to do that."

I could tell through my bugs that Saber had just finished up in the basement. The hatchet was buried in the concrete foundation with a broken handle. The blonde moved up the stairs at a hurried pace, scooping up the two defeated gangbangers as she went.

Going inside that house right now would be bad with a capital B.

"You shitbags still here?" Skidmark said, looking our direction. "Mush, get your ass over there and mess those fuckers up."

"No, seriously, you don't want to go in there," I warned a second time.

My eyes flicked from Skidmark, to Trainwreck, then Mush. The final Merchant cape literally oozed himself out of the Squealer's treaded train-tank. The PRT listed Mush as a class four Changer. His power let him create a body out of loose dirt and trash. According to PHO rumor, Mush's natural form was that of a scrawny goblin. Right now though, Mush was a ten-foot hulk constructed of sand, mud, and galvanized trashcans.

I drew Nanatsu-Yoru, my eyes steady on the gunners up top. As an immediate threat, they were ten times more dangerous than Mush.

"Get ready to run," I said in a low tone.

"We got shit for cover," Regent retorted.

"Then we'll just–"

Saber exploded out the door. A pair of Merchants sailed through the air, tossed at a low arc away from the armory. Dual tasking didn't make Saber miss a beat. With three loping steps she crossed half the drive way.

Trainwreck reared in surprise.

Too slow.

Saber shoulder checked the steam-punk cape with the force of a semi flying down the freeway. Trainwreck was torn from his feet with a deafening crack then sent tumbling out onto the road.

Every eye jerked toward her.

"Shoot the–"

 _Whoomph!_

Skidmark's shout was swallowed by the deep, guttural roar of flame. A colossal pillar of fire erupted from deep within the blue house. White hot tongues tore through the roof, spreading an inferno of incandescent orange. In the space of a second the building was devoured, leaving nothing but ash and fire.

At the same moment, I unleashed my swarm.

I couldn't have timed it more perfectly if I tried. Sheets of writhing darkness rose from every nook, cranny, and bush. The horde descended on the Merchants in a nightmarish mass. Nobody notice my attack until it was too late. The glare of flame was blinding. The shock of heat, a sledgehammer to the senses. Any attempt to hear was deafened by the thunderous _p-p-pop_ of munitions cooking off in the basement below.

Shill screams of terror rose when a biblical plague of insects matted everything.

But even that sound was stolen by the howling wind.

Gangbangers tumbled off the top of the train, beating their own faces, rolling on the ground in a vain attempt to escape the stinging and biting. Squealer and Skidmark fell in tandem with their minions, pain and panic leaving them vulnerable to my tender mercies. Trainwreck proved more resilient. Trainwreck's mask covered the bulk of his face and while goggles shielded his vulnerable eyes.

Mush was utterly immune.

The Changer's body was literally made of trash. Of all the capes, he should have been the one most vulnerable to my power. Instead, the layers of silt and sand resisted my bugs' intrusion as though they were skin. The critters that slipped inside fared worse, crushed into oblivion before they could penetrate more than a centimeter deep.

As beautiful a distraction the fire provided, it was a double edged sword.

The inferno's raw radiation was painful from where I stood. Closer to the flame it was murderous. Saber was forced to yield her momentum or watch the nearest thugs bake. What the blaze did to my swarm was worse. The surface area to volume ratio of insects was far higher than that of a human. Heat penetrated deeper and faster.

My minions cooked by the thousand.

I watched our momentum evaporate with frustration. The fire was a scythe, reaping my swarm, forcing me to pull the bulk of my force. With gritted teeth, Saber abandoned her attack to drag four gangbangers to safety. The gap in our assault wasn't long. Mere moments.

But it was all the Merchants needed.

Shimmering lines shot from Skidmark's hands. The space between that light rippled with iridescent color, whirling with rainbow fluorescence before settling into a gradient of violet to blue. A sudden force shoved everything. Pressed by his own power, Skidmark slid toward the side hued in pale blue.

For my bugs the effect was ten times worse. A gale force wind ripped at them, stripping them from flesh. Needled legs struggled to cling to the cape, but between the ruinous heat and crushing pressure they faltered.

Skidmark stumbled to his feet, his face a mass of bleeding welts. He looked drunk, wild-eyed, hardly alive. Still his mind functioned. The Merchant leader's gaze shot over the field and he quickly grasped how deep the shit hole into which he had fallen.

"I said shoot the bitches!" he screamed.

Skidmark took a step forward then face planted straight into the concrete when Regent twitched. Twisting on the ground, the Skidmark flung another streamer of light toward Squealer's train-tank. A wave of force shoved my bugs toward the far wall, but this time I was ready. Wasps and spiders clung tight to exposed flesh. Squealer whimpered. The last two gangbangers, minds frozen in agony, were helplessly pushed over the train-tank's edge.

The shout galvanized the rest into motion.

Trainwreck's metallic form rolled, then rose anew with a hydraulic hiss. The front panel of the Tinker's armor was dented from the crash. Regent twitched his leg a second time. Trainwreck stumbled, but his mechanical march kept him on his feet. Regent jerked again. This time, Trainwreck misplaced his left foot and promptly tripped over it with his right.

Rather then draw closer, Mush stepped back. A muddy fist smashed into the door of Squealer's vehicle. Flesh oozed out, stretching so that it spread throughout the train-tank's insides. The disgusting mass slopped amongst the interior, squashing insects wherever it went. In mere moments my army was reduced to a tenth.

The Changer drew back his arm, slamming the door closed behind him. Then he turned and marched ponderously toward us.

From Regent's useless motions I deduced that Mush was just as immune to pretty boy's power as he was to mine.

Fuck.

I had one second to worry. Then Saber cut Mush's leg clean off.

Mush fell with a pained yelp. Garbage poured from the open wound like blood. The Changer shook with agony. I wondered if that was normal, or if Saber's invisible weapon cut at deeper level. It hardly mattered. The tiny blonde strode forward then stomped on Mush's chest, somehow forcing the giant down. Then, with merciless efficiency, she removed all three of his remaining limbs.

Trainwreck stilled, looked at her then looked at us. Raising his mechanical hands, he took a cautious step back.

"Stupid shits, do I have to everything myself?" Skidmark shouted. He flashed his gun toward us.

 _Bang!_

Time slowed. It was the same feeling I encountered when facing Armsmaster on the roof. A sense of impossible grace. An utter certainty of how I could defend. But, unlike before, I knew the source. Taming Sari. The kris altered into a baton flicked in my hand, tracing a path no human could deduce at a speed I could not hope to replicate.

 _Ting._

Taming Sari's hilt jerked in my hand. A bullet ricocheted off metal. Skidmark fired again, but my body was already bridging in preparation before he shot. The second projectile whipped past the small of my back. A third went wide and, with a flick of my wrist, I parried the fourth.

Noble Phantasms were bullshit.

A blue blur cut Skidmark's fire short. Saber appeared between us, the Merchant leader's bullets deflecting uselessly off her armor and invisible weapon. The blonde's lips pressed in a grim line. Cool eyes evaluated the gap, judging the angles of fire between us.

Then she exploded forward, an unbreakable wall and unstoppable force tucked into a singular, tiny package.

Skidmark threw out lines of light. A cube of blue and violet appeared in Saber's path. The blonde smashed through it as though it were glass, sending out splinters of colored lights in every direction. She reached Skidmark an instant later, her invisible blade crashing into his chest with bone crushing force.

She paused an instant later to smash the front bumper of a car out of the air before it could hit her head.

The brief disruption had restored Trainwreck's courage. In his mechanical hands, the Tinker hefted a side door freshly wrenched from a rusty pickup truck. He paused, watching the blonde warily.

Then he looked at us.

Oh. With a sinking feeling, I grasped Skidmark's tactic. Stopping Saber was impossible. She was an unbeatable Brute. But the Merchants didn't need to defeat her. They just had to put her out of play. And the easiest way to do that? Attack her weak spot.

Us.

Trainwreck threw the door.

Even with Taming Sari, there were things I could not block. The kris granted supernatural speed and skill, not strength. Still the blade whispered into my brain a dozen ways to dodge.

But there was no way in hell Regent could manage the same.

And Saber knew it.

The blonde back pedaled, retreating faster than the projectile that left Trainwreck's hand. Saber was a blur of motion, a blue streak faster than lighting. Her feet slammed down five feet ahead of me, sliding across dirt as she firmed her stance. She swung. _Clung_. Light burst where her invisible blade struck heavy metal. The steel door repelled three meters up before landing far to our right.

Trainwreck turned to tear another hunk from the broken truck. Saber remained in place, expression grim.

"Overmind, assist Regent to his feet. We will withdraw to cover."

Withdraw? Why? Yeah, Saber pulled back, but she could reach Trainwreck in a single second. There was no way they could keep us pinned long enough. If she charged Trainwreck now–

The first part of Saber's sentence hit me. I glanced back and grasped my error. Regent was clenching his gut, muscles trembling with hidden pain. The bullet I dodged had passed by me. Regent had not been so lucky.

Trainwreck threw a hunk of twisted metal. Saber slapped it out of the air. Skidmark struggled to his feet. One of the gangbangers had recovered enough to grab an assault rifle. I grimaced then quickly stooped while Saber stood guard, slipping Regent's right arm over my shoulder.

"Fuck," he gasped as I lifted.

I half-walked half-dragged Regent to safety. The _rat-tat-tat_ of machine gunfire echoed in our wake. Saber bore the bullets as a human shield, the projectiles sparking off her armor and invisible blade. One stray bullet brushed her cheek, scattering golden locks and drawing a reddened line across unbroken skin. Taming Sari flicked, scattering the shot to one side.

Fortunately the nearest house was close, so we didn't need to move more than a couple of meters to place it between the Merchants and ourselves. I pulled my swarm into a tight swirl, obscuring lines of sight to hide our retreat. Shadowy outlines rippled in the mass, drawing eyes and distracting fire.

The Merchants were recovering. Three gangbangers made it to their feet, one reeling drunkenly. The others were too hurt to even manage that. Skidmark limped his way to the train-tank, cursing with each step. He threw up blue and violet fields everywhere, using them like forcefields to scatter my bugs. Mush remained on the ground, his cries reduced to mere whimpers. Tendrils of flaky skin extended from his stumps, plunging into the dirt and reaching for his severed limbs. What the tendrils touched was sucked into thickening veins of trash-borne flesh.

But I was not content to defend. Dark arms extended from the swirling mass of insects and dove into Skidmark's fields from the violet ends. The mass flowed through the walls of force following distorted paths. Guided by a spear tip of scouts, the blackened mass struck the group. Propelled by Skidmark's power, no more than one in ten of my critters managed to grip flesh. Those that did bit and stung for all they were worth, sending waves of pain and chaos through the Merchants still standing.

With a monstrous, metal fist, Trainwreck brushed aside a horsefly that managed to cling to his goggles, crushing it into an ugly smear in the process. In anger, he blindly hurled the side panel of the truck's trunk toward us. The heavy projectile smashed through the shack's front wall and halfway out the back. It was off target by a good ten feet.

Trainwreck didn't bother grab another projectile. Instead, the Tinker chugged toward the train-tank then, with a steam assisted leap, jumped to the top. With metal digits, Trainwreck seized mounted gun bolted to the train's turret.

"Fuck," I cursed. I dragged Regent at a hurried pace. "Trainwreck is manning the machine gun."

Saber eyeballed the battlefield. There was not much to see from where we were standing, short a third person omniscient view thanks to Master/Thinker bullshit. Which was a good thing, because if Saber couldn't see them, they couldn't see us.

"Are you able to deter flanking maneuvers?"

"They only have two mobile goons," I answered. "Skidmark is throwing up forcefields to try and block my bugs. But if any of them step out wide enough to take a shot, I can put them down."

Saber nodded then dismissed her invisible weapon. Motioning for me to step aside, she took Regent then lifted. The tiny blonde did not merely carry Regent's weight, she picked him off the ground entirely. The image was comical, seeing how Regent massed half-again as much as Saber did.

"Locate a safe house and screen the enemy force. I will prepare a counter attack the moment you are secure."

I nodded and broke into a run. I lent half any eye to the Merchant assault while focusing the rest of my attention on safety. Mentally, I divided the neighborhood into corridors of visibility, restricting our selection to places we could reach without attracting too much attention. I had goals. Too far away, and I would lose the power to hold the Merchants in place. Too close, and we would be easily found.

That gave me roughly two hundred meters of play. I quickly filtered through the houses in range. An empty place. Preferably long abandoned. If not that, at least somewhere that wouldn't put the few civilians still tucked in their homes into the line of fire.

"That one, there!" I said, pointing.

My swarm stirred behind me, shadowy masses pulling away in curtains. I tried to be subtle, hiding the shifting depths as I pulled half my force to hold it close. Fragments of my army broke into groups, shuffling into illusionary images. Silhouettes slipped around corners and dove into empty houses. Distractions. Nothing that couldn't be seen through with careful attention, but in the heat of battle that was more than enough to confuse and misdirect.

In the midst of that illusion, we cut across the street our forms obscured by the swirling mass.

Nobody so much as glanced our direction. Skidmark finally made it to the train-tank. The Merchant leader threw himself through the door, flopping onto the floor in storm of cussing. He rolled, looked at Squealer, and shouted at the woozy Tinker. Pawing at the control panel, Skidmark grabbed one of the scattered needles then jabbed it into the girl's arm. Squealer shot wide-eye awake in an instant. She seized the wheel in a fit of mad giggles.

The train-tank's engine roared. The turret skewed.

 _BOOM!_

I flinched at the sound, while slamming a door behind me. Through an open window I glimpsed the explosion with human eyes. The house we had been hiding behind moments before burst into a fountain of timber. Flickers of orange light filtered through the showering debris. The spire of flame stretched high, howling at the world with infernal rage. The train-tank stood before it, a monstrous shadow cast by hellish light.

I turned away and hurried deeper inside the shack.

"Here," I said, pulling open a door.

A set of stairs led down into a cellar. Walls and dirt provided unbreakable cover. No matter how wild things got above, we would survive. Of course, if the Merchants found this hiding hole, there was nothing stopping them from driving their train-tank right over the top of us.

Saber appraised the location before nodding in acceptance. I let out a breath, realizing I had met her approval. The tiny blonde set Regent on the ground gently.

"Overmind, I intend to eliminate our enemy's mobility. Can you provide sufficient distraction?"

I nodded, struggling to catch my breath. The run hadn't been long, but the short distance I carried Regent had set my muscles afire.

"Give me a minute. I'll signal you when I'm ready."

"Then I shall move on your command," Saber accepted grimly. The armored knight headed back up the stairs. "Take care not to overreach. The others will arrive shortly. There is no sense taking risks unwarranted."

An image of the house exploding filled my mind followed by a falling spire of ice. I nodded numbly. It would suck if the Merchants got away, but it would be more foolish to risk everything to hold them here.

"You too," I breathed.

Saber offered a light smile then vanished through the door.

Squealer's train-tank rolled forward, crushing through the shattered house. The Merchants moved slowly. Mush, Trainwreck, and the two functional gangbangers were up top and armed to the teeth. Two assault rifles, three clips – one mostly empty – and a heavy machinegun with enough ammunition to fill the world with holes. Skidmark was huddled inside, ranting. Every few second he threw out a field of force, blue side aimed up, creating a shielded tunnel that deflected my bugs.

I grimaced. The Merchants had a clear line of sight to where we were hiding now. The good news was they were not sure which house we were in, or if we were in any of them. The bad was that, if Saber was going to slip out the back, I needed one hell of distraction otherwise the canon's next shot was going straight into the shack above our heads.

 _Ding-aling-aling_.

I jumped. Regent rummaged in his pocket then pulled out a phone. He listened for a few seconds then offered it to me.

"It's for you."

Regent's mask was off. His face was pale and shaky. He had a nonchalant expression, but it was ruined by the grimace of pain hidden beneath. I took the phone, shifting the device to my left hand while I worked at opening my utility pack with my right.

" _Thank god,_ _I got a hold of you,"_ a desperate voice spoke.

I blanked for a second, trying to identify the voice. Then it clicked.

"This is _not_ a good time, Li–"

" _No name_ _s_ _!"_ Lisa said quickly. _"_ _My power says there is a ninety percent chance nobody_ _is listening, but it is better safe_ _than sorry_ _."_

Somewhere in the back of my head, I mulled over the fact that there was a ten percent chance somebody was listening.

"Okay, 'T'," I said, using the first letter of her cape name. "But it better be good."

I pulled my first aid kit out of my pack and moved over to Regent. A plan was forming in my head. I had been leaning heavily on my fliers since the beginning of the fight. It was hard not to, as nothing else had a quarter their mobility. But between the heat and the fighting, they were getting more than a little worn. To nurse their numbers, I reduced their deployment to a fifth. Enough to harass and keep the Merchants on edge, but not enough for anything fancy. The remainder rested their wings, awaiting their moment to shine.

" _The ABB broke Lung out. That's what all the bombing was about. He is fighting 'C' right now,"_ Lisa said, following my pattern without pause. _"They're gunning for you. The whole team. Whatever you're doing right now, you need to call it off. Form a united front. Because the moment the ABB finds where you are, they're going to hit you like a ton of bricks."_

 _BOOM!_ A yellow shack, four houses down, exploded. Heavy gunfire echoed in the wake. Trainwreck fired bursts of rounds into the nearby buildings, hoping to flush us out. A quintet of bullets raked the walls above us. Glass shattered. I could hear the fragments _tinkling_ on the ceiling above.

I couldn't drag this out. The neighborhood was mostly empty, but _only_ mostly.

" _'O', you listening to me?"_

"I'm listening," I said with an aggravated tone. "But the ABB is going to have to wait. We're already tangled up in a fight with all four fucking Merchants, and I don't think they're going to back off if we ask nicely."

My insects erupted in renewed swirls. Mighty hammers of bugs charged the train-tank's side. They hit Skidmark's zone in a river, flowing up under the impulse of his power. The dark cloud beat its wings to resit, the swarm whipping over the heads of those up top. Unarmored gangbanger's flinched. At the same moment, a trio of bug clones surged out from a distant house, vanishing behind a rising hill, shadowy sheets of fliers shrouding their motion.

Come on. Come on. Come on. Trainwreck whirled, letting loose a blast of machine gunfire in the clones' direction. Too slow. Too late. But Squealer took the cue and gunned the engine. The train-tank tore forward, briefly outstripping Skidmark's impromptu shields.

My bugs swept back to punish that error.

" _Four?"_ Lisa questioned. _"Never mind that._ _Oni-Lee is leav_ _ing_ _any minute now._ _He_ _'_ _s a_ _teleporter._ _If you_ _'_ _re in the middle of anything big,_ _it'_ _s not –"_

A torrent of insects slammed into the train-tank from above. Gangbangers flailed and yelled. One emptied his entire clip into the air in a moronic attempt to fend off the swarm. Trainwreck shook his head, trying to free the lenses of his goggles without adding more bug guts. He breathed in, sucking tiny critters into his windpipe. The steam-punk cape burst into fit of sneezing and coughs.

Skidmark created another upward facing zone.

Gotcha.

That was exactly the wrong move. My bugs were pushed upward in sheets. Not just the ones on top of the train, but also the seething mass below. Thousands upon thousands of creepy crawlers slithered up through the bottom of the train-tank, seeking every entrance. Armies of spiders repelled up the train-tank's sides, slipping in through windows or rising higher to attack the vulnerable gangbangers.

At the same time, my three bug clones crossed back into the line of sight.

Skidmark panicked. Seeing the nightmarish mass infiltrating his fortress, the Merchant leader stacked three upward facing fields, generating enough force to lift the less dense thugs above. Gangbanger's failed in the air. Mush clung to the train-tank's sides. Trainwreck remained riveted, his turret tracking my clones with heavy fire.

Unseen, Saber shot out the back door.

Something rumbled on the other end of the phone.

"Still there?" I questioned, while applying an anti-bacterial agent to Regent's wound.

" _Building came down. Had to get out of the way,"_ Lisa said. _"You?"_

Skidmark finally got his wits about him. With a wave of his hand, he canceled two of his upward facing fields. Another motion generated a violet-blue boundary pushing toward the east. Then he created a second. Then a third. The first encompassed the whole vehicle. The others were stacked near the train-tank's edge. My swarm was sucked into the three inch deep bug trap. Skidmark ramped up the pressure, crushing my minions against the armored interior.

With a groan, the train-tank began to lean with the accumulated force.

In that perfect moment, Saber charged.

The blonde had been flashing between buildings, skirting around the battlefield's edge. That left her as far from us as the enemy. Despite that, Saber made it a third of the way across the gap before Mush noticed.

The Changer swung an arm. Fingers of mud, sand, and metal tore from the limb, flying toward the armored knight. Saber slipped to the side, hardly losing any speed. The Gangbanger's joined in next, showering Saber with full auto. Pointless. The few bullets that hit ricocheted off the blonde, failing to draw her ire.

Then the train-tank began to turn, left and right side treads spinning in opposite directions. The slightest skew was all Trainwreck needed to bring his turret to bear. With a deep, guttural percussion, he joined the assault.

Where the other guns could be ignored, this one could not. Saber dashed to the side, figure blurring into blonde and blue. Trainwreck swung his weapon, trying to trace her arc. Fiery lines tore across the ground, too slow, stifled by the twisting of the train-tank itself. Slowly, they caught up.

Enough. My swarm curled in the air, then lashed out at the train-tank in a wave. The sheet of bugs was flung up and over, but the dark current was enough to blind all vision.

Saber instantly reversed direction. Trainwreck continued to skew in the wrong direction for a single precious second. Giving Saber enough space to cross a dozen meters.

Squealer did not make that error. The train-tank's turret finally found its bead. _BOOM._ The canon's thunderous roar could be heard for miles.

Without missing a step, Saber cut the projectile in half.

Dirt erupted in twin fountains twenty meters to Saber's rear. The knight flashed forward. Trainwreck shifted back. A bare instant of gun fire crossed the blonde's path. A streak of blood burst from Saber's shoulder.

But she was not deterred.

With three more steps, Saber reached the train-tank's side. Her motion paused. The blonde twisted. With a single shift, Saber's incredible motion was transformed into a powerful double-handed swing. Metal screeched. Sparks showered. Saber's invisible weapon sheered clean through the train-tank's front-right tread.

Squealer slammed her vehicle in reverse.

Too late.

In the blink of an eye, Saber was at the vehicle's left. Her invisible sword went _snicker-snack,_ slicing through both sets of armored treads on the left side. A desperate gangbanger fired his rifle over the edge. Saber deflected a quintet of bullets with her blade. The rifle clicked empty before being thrown uselessly at the blonde below.

"'S' is taking care of the Merchants. Hopefully, we'll have them out the way before–"

The scent hit me before anything else. Gunpowder. Lots of it. My attention shifted to the edge of my range. Boatloads of ABB gang members were trucking up the city streets in full colors. Every one of them was armed with guns and ammunition.

" _He_ _'s there,_ _isn't he?"_ Lisa said.

I scanned the group for a man wearing a black-body suit and leering, demonic mask. I didn't find him. What I did see was terrifying enough.

"No. Not him," I answered. I already suspected who it was I saw, but I had to know for sure. "Which ABB cape wears a gas-mask?"

Silence.

"T?"

Lisa voice squeaked on the other side of the phone. I could already tell she was shaken before she said the two words I never expected to hear.

" _Rin's dead."_

-oOo-

 **Agneyastra**

 _Projected Noble Phantasm – Rank B+ – Anti-Unit, Anti-Army, Anti-Fortress_

 _The weapon the Hindu god Agni, often gifted onto heroes as a form of divine favor. Agneyastra is an astra, and therefore a legendary weapon existing in the nebulous space between noble phantasm and divine construct. Like all astras, Agneyastra may take many shapes. However, no matter its form, Agneyastra's core power remains the same. It generates an intense flame that cannot be extinguished by normal means. The shape of its mystery however, reflects the form in which the weapon is called._

 _If called forth as a bow, Agneyastra becomes a rain of fire falling from the heavens. When summoned as a sword, it becomes a sharpened inferno that cuts with the heat of a star. When given birth in the form of an axe, the fire sinks in deep into the bones of whatever is struck and burns all that it is to ash._


	9. Chapter 9

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 9**  
-oOo-

"You sure about this?" Tattletale asked with a vulpine grin.

 _Worried but confident. Has faith in her comrades, but is aware of their mortality. Does not like being sidelined. Annoyed. Wants to finish this quickly._

Caster huffed. "If you let a fish off the hook, there is no telling when you'll catch it again."

Palanquin.

The club's name was spelled out on a sign made of yellow tubes. At night the neon scrawl would shine in welcome, a siren's call to those drawn by the steady thump of music. Now the tubes were dark, illuminated only by filtered sunlight. The sidewalk was clear of all except cigarette butts and scattered trash. Not a single drum beat escaped the double doors.

The two of them stood before the waist high chain barring the front. Caster rattled the links in irritation, then moved to duck under. Tattletale tapped her on the shoulder and pointed toward the nearest alley.

 _Thud_. A boot cracked against a young Asian man, knocking him out of the darkened space. A lit joint bounced along the sidewalk. A large Hispanic came up from behind, grabbing the punk by the collar of his red sleeved jacket.

"Don't smoke that shit around here," the Hispanic man growled, shoving the punk the rest of the way out the alley.

The Asian kid caught his balance just before spilling onto his face.

"When Lung–"

"Lung got himself put in the can," the Hispanic retorted. He stomped on the joint and ground it into the cement with his rubber sole. "And even if he was out, he'd know better then to start shit with Faultline's crew over some dumb ass kid's sore ego. Now get out of here before I call the cops."

A final shove sent the young man three steps down the sidewalk. The gangster scowled back and made a show of dusting off his green pants.

"Fucking chico."

The punk strutted forward, a broad swagger to his step. His gaze fell on Tattletale and Caster. Tattletale gave a vulpine smile. He froze. His eyes widened. Caster's attention shifted his way, her expression marred by irritation.

The gangbanger gulped. All pretense dropped, he took off in a run.

"Sorry about that," the Hispanic said. The bouncer undid the chain barrier then stepped out of the way, gesturing toward the door in invitation. "Head on in. The boss already gave the word."

With a polite nod, Caster pushed through the main entrance.

Even though it was late afternoon, the club's interior was dark. There were no windows. Thin overhead tubes provided the primary form of light, their blue, red, and purple glow designed to deliver atmosphere instead of illumination. A handful of overhead lamps lit the two main bars, positioned to the left and back sides. Hundreds of glasses were spread, face down on the table. A female employee buffed a few more cups, while a male second cleaned the booths in preparation for the night's guests.

"We've been made," Tattletale informed, eyes adjusting to the dull light.

Caster's gaze shifted to the blonde, the door closing behind her.

"Hmm?" she noised. "Is there going to be trouble?"

 _Not from Earth Bet. Does not understand cape culture. Assumes hiding her identity is pointless. Assumes interested authorities can easily obtain it. Assumes such authorities know better than to interfere. Suffers from culture gap. Places no value on the unwritten rules._

Tattletale jerked her focus from the brunette, cutting the flow of information.

She grimaced. Tattletale wished she could say Caster was wrong. But she wasn't. The PRT had enough Thinkers to unmask half the capes in North America in less than a year. The government could do the same, though the effort would take closer to five. Tattletale herself could unmask most with an hour's effort. Hell, she had uncovered the identities of the Wards just by watching the nightly news.

And yet, no one did.

The PRT and Protectorate refused to seek that information. They couldn't afford to. Even the act of collecting identities would shatter a major taboo. The rules, for all their caprice and contortion, were one of the few precedents that kept the system from spiraling into collapse.

Capes, one and all, were broken people. Heroes needed an opportunity to throw around their weight, to feel their lives had meaning. Villains needed the prospect of escape, the knowledge that they could turn over a new leaf. Rogues needed a chance to curl up in the dark, to hide away from the world and play with power.

And the PRT? The PRT needed the opportunity to flip the bit players to their side and the leverage to throw the strongest at the Endbringers.

Caster was smart, but she lacked the necessary history to see the big picture on Earth Bet. She didn't know how fragile the world was. She didn't remember the bitter failures and broken dreams. That was the one aspect of Unit 09 that scared the hell out of Tattletale.

It was also the one thing that comforted her the most.

Because Caster not having those fears implied Earth Tav had found a path out of the trap. A method to build a stable world despite the presence of numerous cape equivalents.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Tattletale took a second to recall the ABB wannabe. The Asian punk's face flashed across her mind. His widening eyes. The hint of fear and recognition. Her power whispered in answer, leaking secrets like a demon nestled against her ear.

 _Frightened of Caster. Knows of her. Knows she beat Lung. Knows her face. The ABB has an image of Caster's face. Caster's bounded field made it impossible to get clear pictures during the bank battle. The image was not collected during the bank battle. The image was collected earlier, during the initial fight with Lung._

 _ABB seized evidence before the PRT secured the scene._

Oh, now _that_ was interesting. But it wasn't the information Tattletale was looking for. She refocused on the punk, this time tuning her memory to a period a little later. The shift in his posture. The way he turned and ran.

 _Recognized Caster. The image of Caster's face was shared amongst the ABB gang members. The ABB is looking for Caster. Caster shamed the ABB. The ABB wants to restore its rep. The ABB has put a hit on Caster._

Closer, but nothing Tattletale couldn't guess on her own. She let her power play out a little longer.

 _The ABB will attack. Insufficient resources, the ABB cannot attack. Multiple detonations in progress, source Bakuda. The ABB has an operation in progress. The ABB is breaking out Lung. The ABB does not want to confront Faultline's crew. Lung will insist on leading the assault. Any assault will take time to organize._

 _Probability of attack while inside the Palanquin, negligible. Chances rise upon exiting. Two percent chance of ambush after ten minutes. Six percent chance of ambush after twenty minutes. Eleven percent chance of ambush after thirty minutes. Eighteen percent chance..._

Tattletale stopped the thread.

"They won't do anything while we are in the Palanquin, but we should watch for an ambush on the way out," she explained. "There is a good chance Lung will lead the assault, especially if we hang around long enough for the ABB to build a force outside."

Caster pressed her lips.

"That could be a problem." She sighed. "Shirou will be angry, but I'll tell him to head over and back us up."

Tattletale winced. "Archer. Stick to cape names while we're suited up. Sets boundaries. Makes it so those of us who play by the rules don't have to wonder whether we're stepping over the line."

Caster gave her a look.

 _Thinks you are being silly. Will play along to be polite._

Well, that was about the best she could hope for.

Caster closed her eyes, murmuring a quiet aria to activate her circuits. Tattletale's power pulled data from the context, fusing it with the thaumaturgy lessons from last few days to synthesize new knowledge.

 _Has_ _a_ _bond with Archer. Allows communication. Allows shar_ _ing of_ _senses_ _._ _Allows_ _allocation_ _of_ _energy._ _The bond is u_ _ndetectable._ _The bond c_ _annot be jammed._ _All features are b_ _idirectional._

After a few moments, Caster spoke. "He's in the middle of something right now, but Archer promises to be here in half-an-hour."

They proceeded forward.

The meeting was upstairs, in the glassed in VIP lounge overlooking the main dance floor. The stairwell was guarded only by a red rope stanchion. _Screee–_ Caster nonchalantly scooted a metal post to the side.

"Hey!"A voice interrupted. "Didn't you see the rope? That means you're not supposed to go up."

An orange skinned kid vaulted in from the back. For a brief moment, he clung to the ceiling. Then he dropped to the ground with catlike grace. Newter. One of Faultline's capes. A Striker who secreted a powerful hallucinogenic drug through his skin.

The orange boy gave Tattletale a suspicious look.

"Tattletale. The boss lady doesn't like you. I'm surprised she let you in."

"We're here by invitation," Tattletale replied with a grin.

Newter's eyes flicked to Caster, but showed no recognition.

"Well, you'll have to wait. Faultline is in a meeting right now. A meeting with _important_ people."

"How odd," Caster observed lightly. "Because I distinctly remember setting up our meeting two days ago."

Newter's lips quirked tauntingly. "As I said, _important people._ "

 _Knows me. Does not know Caster. Does not know the Undersiders are working with Unit 09. Was not informed. Faultline assumed we would not show._

Which would be a reasonable presumption, except that Caster was anything but reasonable.

"Funny that you say that," Tattletale drawled. "You do know who you are talking to, right? The cape that took down Lung? The same woman whose team smashed the Protectorate just a few days ago? Ringing any bells? Surely Faultline gave you at least one debriefing."

Newter's eyes flicked between the two women. "She's not wearing a mask."

 _Was told not to trust you. Is cautious, but is now worried he made a mistake. Not sure what to do. Will break if pushed._

Tattletale's lips spread in a vulpine smile.

"If you don't trust me, you can always run up those stairs and ask Faultline. I would hurry if I were you. You hear those bombs earlier? A gang war is breaking out and Caster's team is involved. Despite that, she made an extra special effort to be here, because she's polite. But if you keep giving her the run around?"

Tattletale trailed off, smile growing wider.

"Well, just ask yourself this. Do you _really_ want the cape that took down _Lung_ pissed at you?"

Newter scowled, posture shifting as he readied to move. "Just so you know, I'm not doing this because I'm scared. I'm doing this because Faultline likes to treat her business partners right. Got it?"

Newter turned sharply, prehensile tail swishing behind him. He vanished above. Words drifted down the stairwell, louder than before. A moment later Newter peered down, a sour expression on his face.

"You two can come up."

Like the main floor, the balcony was lit by a purple and blue glow. That dull illumination was augmented by half-a-dozen flood lights, washing away the colored hue. The leather couches and polished oak tables fit the plush décor. A small mini-bar filled the far corner while further back was a door marked _employees only_.

Faultline claimed the center of the nearest couch as though it were a throne. The Striker was in full costume, a strangely tasteful blend of riot gear and ballroom dress. Faultline nodded toward Caster. Her expression flickered with displeasure when her eyes crossed Tattletale's.

Tattletale returned a smarmy smile.

 _Finds your presence threatening. Fears you will see through her plans. Does not like you. Regards your intelligence as fake._

Tattletale's grin faltered, transforming into a scowl of her own. She knew damn well that there were people in this world smarter than her. Caster was one, a true genius. A woman who could grasp points related to thaumaturgy faster than Tattletale, power included. But, even before she triggered, Tattletale had been bright. Not top of the class, but near it. And if there was one thing Tattletale hated, it was being looked at like an empty suit riding a Thinker power.

"You can tell your employer that we won't accept his contract until the others agree to a truce," Faultline said firmly. "We aren't going to stick out our necks unless the Empire promises to take some of the heat, no matter how much money you are offering."

The man Faultline addressed was built like a brick, and his face was as flat as one, too. He was dressed in military fatigues. His posture was utterly professional, giving nothing away. A sidearm was belted at his waist, and he carried the weapon as though it were part of his body. His flint eyes flicked toward Tattletale then Caster before returning to Faultline.

"Ma'am, my employer is not asking that you handle this alone. This agreement is only to solidify our joint block before the meeting at Somer's Rock. If no truce can be reached, the contract will automatically extinguish–"

 _Mercenary. Works of Coil. Coil is planning to push for the elimination of the ABB. Wants resources in preparation, to show commitment and to pressure Kaiser._

"I said no contracts until after the truce," Faultline cut in, this time far more harshly. "And I don't mean to interrupt, but I have a prior meeting planned."

The Mercenary's face remained blank. "Of course, Ma'am. I'll be happy to discuss this matter later, or if you prefer, my employer is willing to speak with you directly.

 _Did not expect us to be here. Was told that Faultline would fold. Is unsure how to handle the current scenario._

"I think that would be best," Faultline said coolly. "Newter, please see Captain Minor out."

Newter slid up beside the mercenary, smiling like a shark. "You heard the boss."

Captain Minor turned without a word, allowing Newter to lead him out. His gaze crossed over Tattletale with a flicker of acknowledgement.

 _Will_ _inform_ _Coil that you interrupted his meeting._ _Coil will demand answers._

Tattletale watched him leave, her sickness hidden behind her easy smile. Coil may have lent the Undersiders to Unit 09, but as far as he was concerned Tattletale still belonged to him. Whether that clash of perspectives would lead to her freedom or ruin remained uncertain.

Unbidden, Tattletale's eyes were drawn to her brunette teammate.

 _Sees you as an acquaintance and valuable asset. Will defend you while you are under her charge. Does not regard issues arising from your background as her problem. Knows you have an agenda. Is suspicious of your intent. Politically savvy._

No dice then.

But not a serious problem either.

Tattletale had a full month to wiggle in close to Unit 09. Archer she already had in the bag, though her power had warned her that relying on him _alone_ was a quick route to a bad end. Overmind was an easy target as well. She just needed a friend, and Tattletale was happy enough to provide.

That gave her half of Unit 09 right out of the box. Unfortunately, it was the wrong half.

The real keys to the kingdom were Caster and Saber. Caster lead the pack, while Saber played Jiminy Cricket for the team. At first blush, flipping the tiny blonde looked simpler. Helping out a poor girl was Saber's kind of thing. Alas, Saber was as politically savvy as hell. Worse, she already suspected that Tattletale had pushed the bank job knowing that Unit 09 would bail them out. That alone wasn't enough to earn Saber's ire, but another blatant manipulation would put Tattletale on Saber's shit list.

Caster, on the other hand, remained too enchanted by the prospect of free labor to recognize Tattletale's gambit.

Honestly, Tattletale was fairly confident that she could get an out just by being upfront about the whole affair. But nothing in this world was free. Negotiating Caster's protection would cost Tattletale half a year of her freedom and screw her relationship with Grue and the Undersiders. For all that she feared Coil, Tattletale wasn't desperate enough to make that trade.

 _Yet._

Tattletale grimaced. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

"I'm surprised you're here," Faultline declared. "With everything going on, I expected you to postpone this."

"I am a firm believer in punctuality," Caster said lightly, sliding deeper into the room. "For those in our line of business, our word is everything, is it not?"

Caster smiled like an angel dribbling venom. Faultline's expression darkened at the hidden insinuation that Caster had kept her word while Faultline had not.

"I promised you a meeting and you got one," Faultline retorted bluntly. "Speak your part. You have ten minutes to convince me that this is worth my time."

 _Forceful introduction. Wants to put Caster on edge. Is aware of Unit 09's rep. Is aware Unit 09 has a Master. Calm. Radio bud in her left ear. The meeting is being recorded. The speaker plays back what happened three minutes ago. Anti-master measure. The recording will not be stored on site._

Oh, that was a neat trick. Tattletale would remember that one the next time the Undersiders ran into an unknown Master. With her power, the setup would work better than it did for Faultline.

"We understand each other, then," Caster said pleasantly.

The brunette swayed around the couch and took a seat opposite Faultine, folding her legs in a ladylike manner. Tattletale leaned against the couch's back, mirroring the position of Faultline's guard – Gregor the Snail – but not his posture. It was symbolic. Subordination to show Faultline that the Undersiders were working for Unit 09, but tinged with enough rebellion to declare to all that Unit 09 did not control them.

That's what Tattletale told herself, anyway.

Caster took a long moment to settle before she spoke, a subtle jab at Faultline's time limit.

"What I am interested in is information," Caster said clearly. "Specifically, information concerning parahuman anomalies. I hear that you are something of an authority on the subject."

"Then you've heard wrong. I hire Case 53's, but that's all. If you want information on _anomalies_ of that sort, you should hit up the Protectorate. I hear they have an extensive collection of medical records," Faultline said, her last line delivered with a nasty edge to it.

Tattletale leaned forward, hungry for the spilled secrets. _Reaction is personal. Not grief._ _Aggravation._ _Faultline has been researching the subject. Faultline's efforts have been frustrated. A cover up. Faultline suspects the Protectorate._

Oh, this was better than they hoped. Lets see. How to go about this? First a test, to make sure Faultline was following the thread Tattletale thought she was.

"Please. There's no need to play ignorant," Tattletale interjected, her lips twisting into a vulpine smile. "We've heard the rumors. Cash rewards for anything related to Case 53's. Their memory loss. Their monstrous forms. Those special marks all of them have on their bodies..."

Tattletale swirled in her finger into the shape of an upside down omega.

Faultline glowered. Tattletale's smile grew broader.

"If your power told you that, then you should know that this is private business and you should stay out of it," Faultline spat.

"Private business that neatly aligns with my own," Caster said brightly. "That makes us natural allies."

Faultline's eyes snapped back to the Asian brunette. "And why would I bring you into this?"

 _S_ _uspicious now. Has been swindled before. Doubts we know anything_ _useful_ _. Thinks you are using your power to steal information._

A little bait, then?

"Because Caster is your best bet on finding out what is wrong with Gregor over there," Tattletale supplied. "She knows things about capes and powers nobody else knows. If there is any chance of fixing whatever happened to him, she's the one you want to talk to."

Gregor stirred. Faultline's guardian was a big man, pudgy, rounded, and obese. His head was hairless, not just on the top either. Eyebrows, eyelashes, and everything else were missing. Most disconcerting was Gregor's skin. Hard growths glinted in the dull light, looking like some horrible disease.

Case 53, the result of powers gone wrong.

"You think you can fix him?" Faultline's tone was thick with dismissal. "You are hardly the first to claim that."

"Whether or not it is something that can be fixed can only be determined after an examination," Caster said succinctly, delivering a pointed glare at the freckled blonde behind her.

Tattletale smiled back, unapologetic.

"You want to experiment on my team," Faultline observed caustically.

"Examine," Caster corrected. "Experiment implies that I am doing something _to_ him in order to see the result. All I am asking for is a diagnostic. Think of it like an appointment with a doctor."

Faultline's expression darkened.

 _Distrustful. Has heard similar offers before with nasty results. Has concluded that we have nothing to offer. Will end the meeting shortly._

Bad. Tattletale glanced toward Gregor.

 _Interested, but suspicious. Is willing to take risks on a long shot. Faultline will bend if she has reason to believe the process is safe._

Okay then.

"Though more than a bit unpleasant," Tattletale interjected, flippantly. "Nothing a strong fellow like Gregor couldn't handle, unless his pain tolerance is less than that of little old me."

Tattletale gave Gregor a smile. The balding man met her gaze for a long moment, having caught the implication. Gregor leaned down close then whispered into Faultline's ear. The Mercenary leader's expression twisted into a scowl.

Gotcha.

"Half a million," she said in clipped tones. "Up front."

 _Does not want to set precedent._ _Will not settle for less than a quarter of a million._

Caster's smile turned deadly sweet. "I am asking for no more than an hour of your time. Ten-thousand at the most."

 _Can afford to pay,_ _but doing so would limit her liquid assets. Will refuse any_ _cash settlement_ _over fifty-thousand. Negotiation is impossible._

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" Faultline retorted.

Tattletale clicked her tongue and wagged her finger.

"Don't be like that. You want this information as much as we do," she inserted. "This is a good chance for you. Let Caster do her thing. Afterwards, she tells you what she knows. If it's good, you tell us what you know. If Caster gets nothing, we cough up a hundred thousand. That's a pretty solid deal for a couple of hours of work."

Faultline pressed her lips and pondered. Caster's eyes narrowed in irritation. The brunette was growing annoyed at her constant interjections. Tattletale flashed a smarmy smile. I know what I'm doing. Have a little faith.

"And you'll trust me not to demand the pay anyway?"

"Mercenary, your word is everything." Tattletale retorted.

"And I'm to believe you'll cough up the funds when I'm unsatisfied?" Faultline challenged.

"Mercenary, their word is everything," Tattletale repeated with a grin.

Faultline frowned, giving Caster a measured look.

"Fine. I accept your deal, but you'll prove that you are the real thing right here, right now, where I can see it."

Shit. Tattletale grimaced. It had not occurred to her that Faultline might demand that. She looked at Caster. The brunette's expression was schooled.

"I don't have my equipment," Caster said firmly.

"That's your problem," Faultline retorted, folding her arms.

Caster sighed then reached into her pouch. "Very well, but don't be surprised if we learn nothing. You over there. Gregor, was it? Strip."

Gregor looked at Faultline. Faultline eyed Caster then reluctantly nodded.

"Just so you are aware, I am not pleasant to look at," Gregor said while pulling off his shirt.

"I've seen things that would make you look like Adonis," Caster replied with an flawless smile. She held out a gem. "When you are done, swallow this. I didn't prepare this one for examination, so expect to be sick for the rest of the day."

Faultline's expression darkened.

"We have demanded they show their ability without preparation," Gregor observed. "We cannot expect everything to go as planned."

Gregor the Snail pulled off his clothes. The bald man's skin glistened in the dull light. Pale. Translucent. Shadowy bones shifted in the depths, the surface itself covered in crusty shells. The sight was grotesque and Tattletale had to hide the twitch of her lips.

"Any chance of injury or death?" Faultline asked, coolly.

"No," Caster answered brusquely. The brunette was all business now. "At worst he will suffer a low grade fever for a week, and only if I don't get a chance to purge my prana. He will, however, be incapacitated for several hours."

Caster's words did not make Gregor pause. The heavyset cape tilted back his head, swallowing the tiny topaz. Gregor's expression shifted into a grimace a second later. His frame shuddered, the only sign of the fiery pain spreading through his body.

"It would be best if you laid down."

Gregor opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. With a hurried nod, he laid himself down on the ground face down. Faultline watched in worried silence, her fists tight with suppressed fury.

"Without the proper equipment, evaluating his circuits will be tricky," Caster conversed, kneeling at the obese man's side. She placed her hands over his back, not hesitating to touch his slimy skin. "However, given my prior experience, I am fairly confident that–"

Caster's arms jerked back as though struck. With a sudden jolt, the brunette shot to her feet.

"Are they blind!"

Faultline's gaze snapped toward Caster. "What is it? What did you see?"

"Even a first year apprentice could see what they were doing wrong!" Caster ranted. Her entire body was shaking with anger. "But what do they do? They jam it in anyway!"

Tattletale's eyes shifted between Gregor and Caster. Silence. Her power offered nothing. The empty quiet was eerie, but it was not the first time Tattletale had encountered the phenomenon. Sometimes, when a question dealt with thaumaturgy, her power refused to speculate.

No data to build on. No knowledge with which to hypothesize. Eager as it was, even Tattletale's Thinker power refused to work in a void.

"They? Then you are certain a human did this," Faultline pressed.

 _Has prior evidence that Case 53's are the result of human experimentation. Is looking for confirmation. Is looking for the source. Is looking for a cure._

"Of course," Caster retorted with acrid tones. "There is no way a Type would screw up this badly."

Tattletale wrenched her gaze away from Gregor. Dull pain throbbed behind her eyes. Tattletale rolled a thumb over her temple. A couple of hours of work and she was already on the cusp of a thinker headache. At this rate, she would have to ask Caster for a vacation.

"My power isn't giving me anything," she interjected. "Can you give me a few clues? Maybe I can shake something out."

Caster growled, then shifted into a severe lecture pose. Her words came out clipped, revealing her agitation.

"As I told you before, parahumans get their powers from a spiritual organ. This organ, in turn, connects to the body by way of surplus circuits. This a concept so simple a child can get it. However, these _fools,_ did not bother to check if Gregor had surplus circuits. Instead they installed it blind, like a blithering idiot."

Tattletale frowned, focusing on Gregor.

Nothing.

No. It wasn't nothing. A chill swept through her, raising goosebumps as it went. She was wrong. It wasn't that her power refused to speculate. It was that it _couldn't_.

"It's a blind spot...," Tattletale breathed. "Like the Manton Effect. Powers can't see anything related to circuits, or how they interact with parahuman powers."

Whoever had done this was groping in the dark. It was creepy. Tattletale was confident that her power worked on Endbringers. It couldn't be nullified by Trumps. _She shouldn't have blind spots_. It didn't make sense. Why this? The Manton Effect was about safety. What purpose did hiding circuits serve?

What was Type-D afraid of?

Caster gave Tattletale a questioning look. Faultline knelt at Gregor's side. He grunted in response. Faultline squeezed the man's shoulder before standing.

"Can it be fixed?"

Caster frowned.

"Yes. No. Maybe?" Caster hedged. "Gregor's symbiotic organ resolved the lack of circuits by supplying its own. The warping of his form was nothing more than a side-affect of the organ imposing its alien logic. The quickest fix would be to remove Gregor's parahuman ability altogether. But, depending on how the organ integrated with his biology, that might prove fatal."

"And if he wanted to keep his power?" Faultline asked.

"I would need to temporarily disconnect the organ from his existing circuits, then amputate the modifications," Caster explained. "To recover the power after would by trickier, requiring that I carve artificial channels for the alien circuits to follow before reinstalling the organ. However, even then –"

Newter shoved his head through the door. "Uh, boss, we have a problem."

"Move."

Lung shoved Newter into the room before stepping in behind. He was seven feet of well-defined muscle. The only clothes Lung wore were a pair of blue jeans and his metal mask. Tattoos of vivid, Eastern dragons, rippled around his shirtless chest, stretching with Lung's growing body.

 _Transformation is in progress. No immediate conflict. Lung is feeding off the incipient combat. The effect is normally impossible. Transformation is not caused by drugs. Drugs have no effect on his power. Adrenaline has no effect. The transformation's catalyst is anticipation. The motivator is fear. Fear of Caster._

Caster gave Tattletale a look. "I thought you said they would wait until after we left."

A sick lump dropped down Tattletale's gullet. Her vulpine smile wavered. "Apparently, I was wrong."

 _Lung is scared of Caster. Lung deals with fear by destroying the thing he is afraid of. Lung will not hold back. Lung is willing to risk everything to win this fight._

Fuck.

"You knew about this," Faultline accused.

"Bad time for that," Tattletale dismissed, hardly paying her any attention. "Caster, Lung is planning to kill you."

Caster raised a brow. Lung let out a short, barking laugh. With a sharp gesture, Lung directed his men into the room.

Oni-Lee, with his black body suit and distinctive demon mask entered first. A handful of ABB gangbangers filed in after. Lung held out a hand. Oni-Lee transferred a steel briefcase into his leader's open palm. Without hesitation, Lung threw the case onto the table, shattering glasses and scattering cups.

 _Cash. As much as Lung could scrounge up on short notice. Not enough to appease Faultline. If she refuses, Lung will kill her. Lung will kill anyone that opposes him. The ABB has gone too far. Lung expects intervention by PRT and Protectorate affiliates._

Faultline glanced at the case, which had slid to a stop within arms reach. "You think you can just buy me off?"

Lung turned his metal mask toward Faultline. His voice was flat. "Leave or die."

"He means it. If he has to, he will kill everyone in this room," Tattletale supplied.

"Tattletale, if you would escort Gregor out," Caster said brusquely.

The brunette moved forward, stopping in the middle of the lounge, dividing the space evenly between Faultline and the ABB.

"That is assuming you don't have a problem if we wait?" Caster asked pleasantly.

Lung folded his arms. He was already half-a-foot taller than when he walked in. "When we fight is irrelevant, but if you try to run I will murder your companion after I finish with you."

"Then I request you take that fight elsewhere," Faultline snapped.

"No. We fight here," Lung growled, jolting forward in a manner that made half the audience jerk back. "Cower, complain, or take your money as you like, but I will not be moved."

Faultline glowered. Caster gave her a sharp look.

"Look after your own," Caster said, gaze flicking toward the obese man on the floor. "But if you want to join in after, feel free."

"You won't live long enough for them to save you," Lung's voice rumbled.

"Really? I thought it was the other way around," Caster replied with an angelic smile. "You were a lot bigger last time we fought."

 _Nervous. Confident she can beat Lung, but is worried about his support. Her costume is bullet proof. Various charms ensure that impact force is spread and ablated. Can be reinforced for additional defense. Negates small arms. Negates low yield energy weapons. Reduces the effect of heavy impact._

 _Head is exposed. Vulnerable? No. Caster has additional defenses. Additional defenses are invisible. Defenses are not sufficient to negate small arms fire. Military grade rifles present a fatal risk and are a primary concern. The tactical situation is disadvantageous. Caster intends to retreat to an open area. Cannot fight effectively and defend us at the same time._

 _Wishes she had her spear._

"He gets stronger the longer the fight goes on," Tattletale warned.

"Then I suggest you hurry," Caster said chillingly.

Tattletale nodded and looked down at Gregor with a grimace.

 _Irregular body type. Weighs approximately three hundred pounds. Carrying capacity in combination with Faultline, no more than two-hundred. Less with mobility._

Faultline threw the metal briefcase to the orange skinned boy. "Newter, grab Labyrinth and Spitfire then meet me in the hall."

Newter nodded and rushed out the back door. Faultline stooped to take Gregor's arm.

"We can't lift him," Tattletale said.

"Do your best," Faultline snapped. She shifted her gaze to her ally. "Gregory, you're going to have to help."

Gregor managed a stiff nod.

Tattletale took the other arm with a grimace. "Just so you know – _ooff_ – I don't do upper body exercises."

"Then I suggest you start," Faultline grunted, while lifting her half.

Between the two of them, they had enough strength to lift Gregor's torso. Fortunately, once the bulky cape got his feet underneath him, he was able to support his own weight. They moved toward the exit at a brisk pace, providing little more than balance and direction.

Tattletale set her hip into the doorbar, pushing it open. She spared a glance back as she and Faultline navigated Gregor through the gap. Not fast enough. Lung was topping eight feet. Scales spread along his arms, silvery shields rising through puckered flesh.

The aperture swung closed behind them.

The back hall was lit by florescent lights. A series of doors punctuated the right, opening into rooms unknown. Ten meters ahead was a metal door marked by a glowing exit sign, which would have been more useful if they were not on the second floor and propping up a three-hundred pound slug man.

Newter rushed out of a side room, pushing a woman in a wheel chair in front of him. Spitfire was a step behind, curly brown hair fluttering, mask halfway onto her freckled face. Her eyes widened at the sight of Gregor, and she moved to take him off Tattletale's shoulders.

"No. I want you and Newter to switch. Get Labyrinth to the back and secure the exit. Newter, watch our six," Faultline countermanded.

 _Bang! B-b-bang! Bang! Bang!_

Tattletale flinched. The first gunshot was followed by a whole lot more. Metal thudded into wood with a meaty clunk. The rain of heavy bullets could almost be mistaken for hail.

Something heavy hit the walls. With a crash and tinkle, glass shattered.

 _BOOM!_

A concussive shock slammed into Tattletale's back, all but knocking her to her knees. Gregor lurched. The door behind tore from its hinges then clattered across tiled floor. A sharp tone filled Tattletale's ears. Faultline shouted, her voice lost to the void.

 _Grenade; Type M67. One-hundred-eighty gram payload. Aerial detonation, three meters above the main dance floor. Caster retreated out of the VIP lounge. The separation provided space for Oni-Lee's attack._

Tattletale's ears popped. Sound flooded in. The ringing continued.

"– 'kay?" Faultline yelled again.

"I'm fine," Spitfire said, shaking her head from the daze.

"Then move!"

Spitfire seized Labyrinth's chair and wheeled her forward in a rush. Tattletale, Faultline, and Gregor waddled after, the big man lurching at a sick gait. Newter, with the clearest head of all of them, hopped up, flipped over the group, then began a slow retreat while watching their backs. The journey seemed to take forever, but eventually Tattletale reached the exit door and pressed through into a stairwell that terminated on the floor below.

 _Exit on the lower floor. Gregor is unsteady. He cannot descend the stairs. Faultline is aware._

Tattletale shifted her eyes to Spitfire, following the logical thread. The curly haired brunette was leaning down next to Labyrinth's ear, quietly whispering.

"... far, far away. A path to somewhere safe. Away from the scary noises. Can you do that for me?"

The room shifted.

No great sound or force accompanied Labyrinth's power. Instead, the surrounding structure began to flow like taffy. The outer wall peeled away, bricks shuffling over stone surfaces. The stairs unraveled. The steps swung out from the Palanquin, transforming into a sloping path that wrapped around the adjacent building before blending with a sidewalk far beyond.

Spindly pillars grew from the ground beneath, joining seamlessly with the path to form an aerial walkway. Arches stretched overhead, organic white trunks formed from thin crystal. The tile path darkened, the surface turning dark and spongy. Alien plants sprang up along the length, exotic petals opening on the branches to unleash unearthly scents.

Through the gap Tattletale caught glimpse of the street below. Three cars and half a dozen ABB gangster were parked outside the Palanquin, claiming the entire avenue as their own. Traffic piled up, the older citizens of Brockton Bay directing their cars well around the hazard.

A gangbanger shouted and pointed his gun up. Another man yelled back, quickly redirecting the thug's attention toward the main door. Tattletale's eyes flicked over the group, content in the knowledge that she would not be targeted.

 _Oni-Lee used conventional explosives. Bakuda is not present. Troops are limited in number, but disciplined. Senior members. People Lung trusts. The rest have been deployed elsewhere._

Tattletale's head throbbed, her thinker headache was growing worse. Okay. What kind of mission takes precedence over killing Caster?

 _No interest in the Undersiders. No interest in Faultline. Lung's forces are insufficient to declare war on the Empire Eight Eight. Limited information in brute holding. Limited debrief after escape. Likely target is Overmind. A punitive mission. Lung has no expectation of victory. Bakuda's death is acceptable. Unit 09 deaths are also acceptable. Lung considers it a win either case._

Fuck.

Shifting to escape Gregor's weight, Tattletale fumbled for her phone. She had been party to enough of the prebattle prep to know Archer's plan was to split the team. Worse, Caster had called Archer back for support, which meant Saber's squad was about to start a fight with the Merchants without a safety net.

Best case scenario, Archer runs into Bakuda on the way in. Which would leave Caster without backup for a few more minutes. Worst case scenario, Saber's team gets caught between a rock and a hard place. Fighting a bomb Tinker was bad. Fighting Bakuda at the same time as the Merchants was downright suicidal.

Beta squad needed to know now.

"That had better be important," Faultline growled.

Tattletale speed dialed Regent's number, knowing that Overmind didn't have a phone and Saber might be in the thick of combat. She lifted the device to her ear, listening to the ring.

"Lung sent Bakuda to do as much damage to Caster's crew as she could. I need to give them a heads up," Tattletale explained. The phone clicked. "Hey, can you hook me up with 'U09'?"

There was the sound of fumbling on the other end. A soft breath rolled over the receiver. Overmind had picked up the receiver.

"Thank god I got a hold of you," Tattletale breathed.

Faultline pointed to the path with her head. Taking the hint, Tattletale pinned her phone in place between ear and shoulder talking absently while guiding Gregor down Labyrinth's ramp. Newter hung back, watching the exit. The first, hazy tendrils of smoke slipped out the door. The building rumbled. Shots sounded on the street.

 _The unpowered members are retreating out the front. Oni-Lee and Lung are still fighting inside. No explosions. Oni-Lee is worried about building's integrity? No. Lung ordered him to stop. Oni-Lee is only here to give Lung time to ramp up. Once Lung is at full strength, he will kill Caster himself._

Which meant Caster was still standing. A good sign.

Lung exploded out the side of the building.

The now twelve foot cape smashed into a storefront across the street. Lung pulled himself out of the crater, knocking aside shattered mannequins and broken brick. His metallic claws gouged the wooden sills as he lurched back into the light. A pair of blades flashed from the Palanquin's depths, burying themselves into the darkness just beyond Lung.

The man shaped dragon suddenly stopped as though chained in place.

Caster flowed out onto the street. Gunfire erupted in answer. The sharp pop of hand guns melded with the _rat-tat-tat_ of automatic fire to create a cacophonous ensemble. Caster moved, flickering across the road with dancing steps, evading streams of scattered bullets. Her arm slashed out. Air froze into a wall of subliming ice, sealing off the western half of the road.

She twisted, foot catching concrete with the lightness of a ballerina.

Asphalt crumbled where she pushed off.

Oni-Lee appeared two meters to Caster's right. Light glinted off a pair of knives. Caster aborted her dash, right arm rising to guard her face. The blades plinked off Caster's costume. She turned, left hand dipping to her skirt. A weapon flew from her hand, with an ephemeral edge five times longer than the dagger Oni-Lee threw.

The sword punched straight through the Mover's heart.

Oni-Lee burst into a torrent of fire and ash. A copy of the cape already stood on the roof above Lung.

Caster used the brief respite to send a brutal hail of gandr toward the ABB's remaining goons. Dark bullets punched into their cover, an SUV with the doors thrown open. Metal screamed. Glass shattered. Three out of four gangbangers went down.

Some of them would never get back up.

Tattletale grimaced at the carnage. Caster was going to have a body count after this for sure. Not good. Not for Unit 09 nor the Undersiders who would be guilty by association.

"O, you listening to me?" Tattletale asked, ignoring how she had hardly been doing so herself. Hey, she had a Thinker power to fill in the gaps.

" _I_ _'_ _m listening,"_ Overmind replied with an aggravated tone. _"But the ABB is going to have to wait. We_ _'_ _re already tangled up in a fight with all four fucking Merchants, and I don't think they_ _'_ _re going to back off if we ask nicely."_

"Four?" Tattletale questioned.

Wait, they were tangled up with the Merchant's already? Shit, she hadn't been paying enough attention.

"Never mind that," Tattletale said hurriedly. "Oni-Lee is leaving any minute now. He's a teleporter. If you're in the middle of anything big, it's not going to take him long to find you."

Caster turned toward Lung. Green circuits criss-crossed her arm then expanded into floating circles just beyond her finger tip. A dark orb gathered, increasing in depth until it seemed to drink the light. She took aim at Lung, who tugged at the empty air in frustration, but failed to take a single step.

 _The hilts are mystic codes. A blade is formed when the weapon is injected with prana. The resulting sword is both tangible and conceptual. Lung's shadow was pierced. Lung cannot move. Lung is being held in place by his shadow. Application of force has minimal effect._

Oni-Lee must have concluded the same. In an instant, he appeared in front of Caster, shoulder checking the brunette to throw off her aim. While Caster staggered under the sudden impulse, an egg shaped object fell to the ground between them.

Grenade.

Caster realized it in the same instant. She leapt back. Dark magic crackled. Energy slashed through Oni-Lee, reducing him to ashen mist. _Boom!_ The shockwave rippled over the ground and slapped Tattletale in the face. Gregor's weight bumbled into her, nearly throwing her off the ramp. Her ears popped, but not half as bad as before.

Caster, however, was hit far worse. The brunette floundered dizzily, inner ear thrown out of whack by the overpressure. Oni-Lee teleported into her face, knives thrusting toward Caster's exposed neck. Somehow the brunette recovered, hands snapping up to seize the demon-masked cape's wrist. She twisted. Oni-Lee's arm broke with a sharp crack. Caster threw him to the ground, then stomped on his skull, crushing it like a melon.

Lung exploded into fire.

The sudden surge of light cut Lung free. Claws dug into the earth. Lung burst forward, crossing the street in one, monstrous lunge. His right arm crashed down like a battering ram, plowing deep into the sidewalk and sending concrete skittering in every direction.

Caster danced back, swaying under Lung's follow up slash. With a twist, she slammed a black key into Lung's ribs. Blade and blood tore through Lung's back. The Brute ignored it, his tail lashing out to spear through the space Caster occupied an instant before.

The brunette reached for a second sword, red-shawl aflutter as she flowed to Lung's flank with an angel's grace.

Only to be kicked into Lung's waiting claws by Oni-Lee.

The dragon man seized Caster with a fist, her armor creaking under the force of his grip. He raised her high, then smashed her into the concrete. Once. Twice. Thrice –

Lung froze in mid motion. Fossilized flesh expanded from the weapon thrust through his chest. Caster used the pause to jam another sword through Lung's elbow. With a roar, Lung chucked the brunette straight through the Palanquin's wall. His enemy cast into the club's darkness, Lung turned his claws upon himself. Keratin blades stronger than steel sank through bone and scale, severing the stricken limb and ripping out petrified organs.

With the swords discarded, the gaping wounds healed at impossible speed.

The four parts of Lung's mouth expanded. The dragon breathed. A jet of blazing light lanced out. The beam twisted in midair, slashing through a wall only to cut its way back into daylight. The searing stream snaked itself through the Palanquin's structure. Inferno spread in the aftermath, rising and moving to seal the building in a blazing barricade.

 _A cage_. _Lung intended this result from the beginning. He lost control when Caster deserted the Palanquin. Discovered how to escape her trap early on. Bided his time. Is intending to use the club's interior to seal her movements. Believes the smoke and fire will weaken her. Is certain he is strong enough to win._

As if in confirmation, Lung growled and thrust a long claw toward the east. Oni-Lee bowed to his leader before turning to ash. Lung stomped forward, smashing aside wood and brick to make room for his now sixteen-foot frame.

The Palanquin began to rumble.

 _The building's integrity is_ _insufficient. Lung and Caster are t_ _o_ _o strong. The_ _structure_ _will_ _crumble_ _._ _The r_ _amp_ _is connected to the Palanquin._ _The r_ _amp is connected to_ _the adjacent_ _a_ _partment building. Force will transfer through the medium. The wall above is fragile._

Tattletale glanced up and cringed. Labyrinth's twisting ramp had distorted the nearby space, borrowing from the three story apartment nearby. The brick structure was eroded by weather, the mortar cracked from age. Half that integrity had been lost to the Shaker's creation. If it was disturbed now...

"Shit," Tattletale cursed. She fumbled her phone to get a better hold on Gregor's arm. "Move!"

Faultline followed her gaze. "You heard her. Pick up the pace!"

They double timed it.

They had already descended most of the way down the ramp in the midst of the fight. Now they rushed the last few meters. The Palanquin creaked and groaned. Columns of smoke rose from the gaps, whirling into dark clouds above. Rippling flames grew on every surface. In that hellish interior the war continued, bangs and crashes sounding as Lung and Caster relentlessly fought.

 _C-crack. Rum-umb-umble._

The ramp shifted as they turned into an alley one street further back. Brick poured down in a flood. Tattletale released a breath and relinquished Gregor into Spitfire's care. Finally comfortably distant, she pulled away from Faultline's crew and took a position on the sidewalk to get a better view.

" _Still there?"_ Overmind's voice called from over the receiver.

"Building just came down. Had to get out of the way," Tattletale replied, setting the phone properly against one ear. "You?"

A pause. Tattletale's power read the clues.

 _A sharp intake of air before silence. Breathing remained measured after. Surprise. Nothing immediately threatening, but important enough to call Overmind's attention. A new threat. Unit 09 has been located by the ABB. Highest probability, Oni-Lee._

"He's there, isn't he?" Tattletale said.

Lung shot out of a wall in a twisting, twining ball of serpentine flesh. Caster rolled amidst the dragon's grasp. With a final tumble, she slipped around Lung's monstrous claws then leapt high into the air. A pair of black blades flashed down, burying themselves to the hilt in Lung's shoulders. Fire erupted from the wounds, an inferno more intense than the air warping heat exuded from the man himself.

With a great roar, Lung surged into the air, beating his wings once to match Caster's height.

In response, the brunette's arc shifted, gravity suddenly doubling its grip. Lung flew over. Caster touched ground then skipped to the side two steps, each eating a full six meters of space. Crackling darkness gathered in her hand.

She fired. Lung folded his wings and plunged. The dark spear cut through silver scales and ripped out the dragon's back in a geyser of flesh and blood. Lung smashed into the ground undeterred, concrete shattering under his enormous weight. The now serpentine cape coiled, then burst forward in a blink. Caster flashed to the left, evading Lung's X shaped maw.

But she didn't quite escape the right fore claw Lung hung out wide.

Lung's great talons slammed around Caster's chest, plucked her from the ground, then smashed her straight into the concrete. Caster squirmed in his grip, straining against Lung's weight and strength, unable to budge his incredible bulk. Lung peered at her through a side eye then raised his head.

He breathed in.

Fire was sucked into his maw. Heat drained from the air until chill wind whipped around Tattletale's costume. The great flames consuming the Palanquin gutted out, orange light spiraling inward to form a ball of intense white light. Lung's X shaped maw rolled around the flame, as though caressing a star. Then the dragon turned and spat a rod of white hot fire straight at Caster's face.

The beam split into rivulets a meter before it reached, shattering like water upon an umbrella. Searing heat poured into the asphalt, releasing an oily stench. The road glowed orange and the surface became viscous. The heat, however, refused to touch Caster. Lung roared in frustration then shoved her deeper into the molten rock.

Caster gestured with her free arm. Liquid concrete flowed out from underneath, formed into stone spears, then stabbed deep into the joint of the arm that held her. Blood exploded out. Lung screamed. Caster rolled, flipped to her feet, then burst out from underneath the beast.

Lung flailed. A rear claw smashed down, half a meter short. His tail swished, but Caster leapt above it, another ball of darkness charging in her hand. The serpent twisted, shooting forward in a flash. Caster touched ground and rolled below, then slid around the trailing claw with superhuman grace.

Darkness tore through Lung's chest.

He jinked back.

Lung's jaws closed around Caster's head, bearing her to the ground. Hastily raised arms stopped Lung's teeth before they could puncture her skull. Daggers of bone rent Caster's costume then punched through the flesh and bone beneath. Still, the brunette held, body wiggling under Lung's weight, struggling to get a breath of space.

Ice crawled over Lung's silver scaled lips.

A desperate fore claw smashed into Caster's chest. He might as well have punched a tank. Bladed fingers skittered off her armor drawing no more than faint lines. A second rushed strike did no more than the first.

The ice bit deeper. The lower right fraction of Lung's jaw cracked and tumbled to the ground.

Lung shifted his grip then drove his claws up under Caster's armpit, bypassing her breastplate altogether. Blades tore through armored cloth, penetrating deep into softer flesh.

Caster stiffened then sagged.

Lung pulled away, claws tearing free with a sick _splurch_. Shreds of red meat and vital organs splattered onto the street. Lung stumbled back. The serpent turned its head then suddenly slammed it into the concrete. Scale and bone cracked. Lung rammed his face into the ground again. Half his head broke away, allowing new flesh to grow in its place.

Lung lifted his serpentine neck high and screamed his victory to the heavens.

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"

 _This is like a game of cops and robbers_. The memory sank into Tattletale's gut like a knife and twisted. Her vulpine smile was frail mockery when Lung turned toward them. The wyrm strode forward, dragging Caster's carcass with a rear claw.

 _Right lung, perforated. Left lung, eighty percent of the mass is missing. Heart, dislocated. Linked arteries, severed. Massive internal bleeding. Oxygen transport system has collapsed. Brain death will ensue in –._

Tattletale wrenched her eyes away. She didn't want to know it. This... this was her fault, her responsibility. It was her job to see the ambushes, to pierce the enemy's plot, and to ensure that no one was caught between a rock and a hard place. And even if she screwed up, no one was supposed to die. Get banged up? Definitely. Spend a few weeks in prison? Probably. Die? That was against the _rules_.

 _But you've always known that not everyone follows the rules_ , her traitorous mind whispered.

" _T?"_

The voice on the other side of the phone was faint, distant, as though coming from different planet. Tattletale flailed, not sure how to answer. When she did, the words slipped out unthought and unbidden.

"Rin's dead."

Numb, she pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up, not wanting to hear Overmind's answer.

Lung loomed over the alley. The heat of his presence felt like a bonfire. The villain lazily tossed Caster's smoking body at Tattletale's feet. His X shaped jaw parted, rows of steel rending teeth gleaming in the afternoon light. With a single snap, he could crush her skull. With a casual slap, he could separate legs from chest. Lung could kill her. Trivially. Easily. Like stepping on a bug.

And there was nothing she could do to stop him.

 _No hostile intent. His goal is to intimidate. A message. Be afraid. Back off. Don't mess with the ABB. Lung will escalate if that communication is not received._

Despite herself, Tattletale gulped.

"You got what you wanted," Faultline barked, standing from where she had been tending Gregor. "Now leave. Unless you want to spoil what little good will you've bought."

Lung laughed.

The sound was deep, guttural and unnatural, like a boulder coughing. Lung turned away, his great feet carrying him meters in a single step. He rose up, two wings spreading until they shadowed both lanes of the main street.

Lung vaulted into the sky, the heavens themselves thudding with the reverberating beat of his wings.

-oOo-

 _ **Black Keys** – The iconic weapon of the Church's Executors, the blade and hilt symbolizing the keys of providence. A black key is a conceptual weapon whose blades are formed through the application of power (prana) in conjunction with faith. Though shaped like a sword, a black key is weighted for throwing and thus serves poorly as a melee weapon. When not in use, black keys appear as simple hilts, which allows their users to carry dozens or even hundreds of the weapons at a time._

 _Rin's use of the black keys originates from her training with her guardian Kirei Kotomine. As an Enforcer, she developed the art of their use and incorporated the weapons with her fighting style. Though less versatile than magecraft, a black key can be triggered and thrown faster. Further, the weapon cannot be as easily defeated with magic resistance, a real concern when carrying out disposal contracts for high class Dead Apostles._

 _Ordinarily, black keys require strong faith to properly utilize. Faith that Rin lacks. As such, she prefers keys enchanted with more conventional thaumaturgic mysteries such as Cremation, Internment and similar rites._


	10. Chapter 10

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 10**  
-oOo-

I put down the phone. My mind was blank. No thoughts. No feelings. Just dull realization. The Merchants had us pinned. The ABB was closing in, Bakuda at the lead. If Tattletale was right, Oni Lee was not far behind.

Maybe Lung as well.

What happened to Caster made little difference in the here and now. Before the day was out, we could all be dead.

The battle above continued without relent.

Saber dismantled the train-tank with smooth precision. Each flickering step was unhurried, designed to efficiently deliver damage while never leaving her exposed. Sparks flew whenever her invisible blade struck, carving away treads and perforating wheels. In mere moments, she left the vehicle paralyzed.

Trainwreck aimed his gun down, wrenching the weapon from its mount to get an angle of attack. Brass shells fell around him like rain, a chain of bullets flowing up from the train-tank in a seemingly endless procession. Saber flowed around the shots effortlessly, vanishing from one side of the train-tank to the other in the time it took me to draw breath. Trainwreck struggled to keep up with her speed.

Which gave Saber more than enough time to leap up and greet him.

With one steel boot, Saber smashed the gun's barrel against the armored top of the tinker-tech vehicle, bending the metal in half. Her blade flickered up, slicing through the feed mechanism with an effortless stroke. Trainwreck had but an instant to back up. Then Saber struck.

Light exploded when her sword touched. Heavy armor cracked. Trainwreck was plucked from his feet by impossible force then thrown three meters through the air to land on the dirt with a monstrous crunch.

Mush moved to intercept. Saber calmly judged the danger and distance, then plunged her blade straight down. Invisible air punched through the multi-ton turret, tearing gears and mechanics alike. Mush lunged. Saber drew her blade, slicing through his right arm before stepping in to remove his left.

It probably would have worked too, if another cape had not suddenly appeared at her back, grenade in hand.

 _Boom_.

The explosion was soft and muffled from the distance, but was still strong enough to rattle the windows upstairs. The impulse threw Saber's balance off. Mush's right arm flew through the sky, severed at the elbow. But Saber's second strike missed, carving no more than a trio of fingers.

Then Mush plowed into the tiny blonde, carrying them both off the train-tank. Mush curled into a ball as he fell, wrapping the blonde in a ball of mud. The disgusting debris rolled for seconds, then – _shwing!_ – Saber hewed through the mass with a single brutal slash. The blonde's boots slammed into the earth, carving trenches through the dirt. Mush came to a halt, half his form sloshing onto the ground around them. The goblin's chest was pressed against Saber's open hand, his only defense a fist thick layer of garbage.

The blonde stepped forward and shoved. Mush exploded back. The Changer smashed into the train-tank hard enough to make it slide, the last half of his body splashing over the armored surface.

One blink, Oni-Lee was at Saber's back.

The second, Saber cut him in half.

The clone dissolved into ash. The tiny blonde turned, tracing Oni-Lee to his new position. In the same moment, a cylindric object arched down on Saber's location from her flank, trailing smoke as it went. Saber effortlessly caught the projectile on her blade then flicked it toward Oni-Lee who stood ten paces away.

Oni-Lee had an instant to jerk in shock, then the bomb exploded halfway between them.

The shell burst, supersonic shrapnel expanding outward. The fragments spread a full meter, paused in their flight, then imploded into sphere of absolute black. The whole world fell inward. Wind howled with such rage that the house above me shuddered. Dirt was drawn in then devoured by the whirling void. Oni-Lee was plucked form his spot, flesh and bone crumbling as he was crushed into an infinitesimal spot.

Impossibly, Saber endured. The tiny blonde shifted into a strong stance as though to resist the laws of physics themselves. For an infinite second she remained still, in stalwart opposition. Then the ground beneath her was ripped from the very earth, sucking her into the darkness with a sickening slurp.

Silence.

A lead weight dropped into the pit of my stomach.

Sitting in a great crater was a compacted ball of fused rock and dirt, taller than the train-tank beside it.

She's not dead, I told myself. Saber was tough. I saw her get dragged in, but I didn't see her get crushed. If anyone could survive in the midst of all that, it was her.

A second grenade flew from Bakuda's launcher. The cylinder plinked off solidified dirt before bursting into a puff of caustic ooze. The liquid sizzled through the rock, turning everything it touched into multifaceted crystal. The sphere glittered with a milky translucency. The first few centimeters were transparent, but the core within was a solid, opaque white.

Fuck.

Not dead. Not like Caster, I reminded myself. She's still alive. Trapped in a stone prison. Suffocating.

Double fuck.

I drowned my emotions in my swarm.

While Saber fought, I had not been idle. My swarm had been growing thinner as the battle ran on. I was short on the more useful fliers, but – despite my stunt with the train-tank – flush with crawling critters. Unfortunately, my land bound warriors were not in position to do anything valuable, nor did I want to draw Bakuda's ire.

I suspected she had a bug bomb on that bandoleer of hers. My use of insects against Lung hadn't exactly been subtle, and she's had plenty of time to prepare.

Instead, I stealthily deployed the tiniest and weakest creatures in my swarm. Gnats, fruit flies, everything small and innocuous descended upon the ABB in a thin, misty cloud. Each insect bore in its jaws tiny loops of silk scavenged from a supporting regiment of spiders. The horde hunted the scent of metal and powder, seeking out guns and barrels. There they nestled themselves, packing in tight, wrapping gears with sticky silk to gum up the works.

I honestly didn't know if it would work.

A good, well maintained firearm could survive dirt, sand, and fouling. Worse, I was one hundred percent sure that I was failing to attack the most vulnerable parts. For all I knew, my effort would fail entirely. On the other hand, the ABB was sporting a hodgepodge of eclectic weapons. An ancient revolver was carried alongside a modern Glock. One bolt action rifle was so old and rusted that it was probably more dangerous to the wielder than anyone standing down range.

But whether or not my tactic succeeded, it certainly didn't hurt to try.

I pressed gauze against Regent's wound then taped it in place. Blots of crimson spread through the immaculate white, but the seeping blood stopped there.

"Saber has run into a spot of trouble," I said, my tone lighter than my thoughts. "I'm going to head out and give her a hand."

"Shit," Regent murmured, his expression pained. "It'd be nice to have a gun. Guess I can make them break their necks when they fall."

I traced his gaze to the stairs leading out of the basement. Insects unfurled their wings, filling the air with a light buzz.

"I'll keep an eye out," I said, ascending.

"You're a creepy dork, you know that right?" Regent called from behind.

"And you're an ass," I retorted.

I stepped into the kitchen, blinking at the surge of daylight. Curtains ruffled in the wind, windows shattered by the violence outside. Sunlight peered through a trio of holes cut into the outer wall, damage dealt by Trainwreck's machine gun. I moved at a fluid pace, information flowing into me via my swarm. I couldn't afford to be slow. Brain death from lack of oxygen took around five minutes, excluding powers and thaumaturgic shenanigans.

Which gave me very little time.

Bakuda's jeep veered off the road and slid to a halt midway between the Merchant's train-tank and Saber's crystal prison. ABB vehicles parked behind, smashing through holly and rhododendrons to form a semi-circle behind the leading cape. ABB normals unloaded. Young and old, rich and poor, they were a scattered mess of people with weapons as varied as themselves. But all were Asian and most bore some mix of red and green.

The crowd looked nervous, out of place. Lung was notorious for press-ganging anyone from the East, so they might well have been exactly that. A dozen, however, carried themselves with confidence. They moved amongst the crowd, taking cover, claiming firing points, and barking order to put the others in line.

What the ABB goons did not do was split off and hunt for me.

For once, luck broke my way.

A loudspeaker shrieked. With a click, Skidmark's voice came out over the com.

"Hey, hey, what the fuck you doing here, bitch? This is Merchant territory. Buzz the fuck off."

"Wow, I always knew you were a dumb ass moron, Skidmark," Bakuda retorted, her voice hissing through her gas mask. The sound was loud and mechanical, strong enough to cross the distance between groups. "But to mouth off to me, here, in this situation? That takes balls."

"You threatening me, bitch?" Skidmark spat back angrily. "Last I checked we got you outnumbered four capes to two, and those pissant guns you got ain't going to do shit against Squealer's Mecha-Chuu Mk II. So why don't you run off and go fuck yourselves before I'm forced to put a cap in that bitch ass egghead of yours."

I skirted around the battlefield, trying to find a decent angle of approach. The ABB and Merchants were parked in conjoined backyards, leaving a lot of open terrain between me and the crystal sphere. Right now they only had eyes for each other, but if I stepped out in the middle of that group, I was ninety-nine percent sure that they would put their grudges aside to focus on squashing me.

I needed a distraction. A big one. I needed more bugs. _"Anfang Käfer."_

"Mecha-Chuu Mk II? Are you fucking high?" Bakuda asked in disbelief. "Let me explain to you how this works. You've got no treads. No guns. All you have is an armored hulk, which is completely fucking useless because I happen to be armed with the most technologically advanced bombs I can fucking dream of. And I say _I_ _can dream of_ because obviously you're too fucking stupid to dream of anything worthwhile.

"I mean, look at that piece of shit," Bakuda said gesturing toward the train-tank. "How many months of work did you put in just to slap a turret on a train engine? That isn't even Tinker work. A shitty engineer could have pulled the same job and had it looking half as ugly. You and your entire crew, Skidmark, are the single most abysmal failures of capes I have ever seen. And that is saying something because I have met Leet and Uber."

Five warm rivers ran through my core. My circuits ached. I had been practicing magecraft this morning and had strained them further rescuing civilians with Grue. I ignored the weariness for now, exchanging control and power for an extra dose of range. One doubling. Any more than that and I would lose access not only to my more useful insects but also my field of awareness.

Power shifted, I sent out a broad call to the critters beyond my prior range. _Come. Assemble. Make ready for war_. The rest of my swarm continued at their tasks, sabotaging every machine within reach while positioning themselves for the battle to come.

"Oooohhh insulting my Mecha-Chuu, she makes me so mad!" Squealer ranted from the driver's seat, already throwing levers and hitting buttons like a mad scientist preparing for a thunderstorm. "Let's show her, Skidmark baby. Let's show her how incredible my baby Chuu really is."

"You heard Squealer. Get your ass up top, Mush. We are going to teach this arrogant bitch how strong the Merchants really are," Skidmark shouted gleefully.

The Changer scampered, his trashbag body only half reformed. Bulky fists of sand and muck gripped the top rungs of the train-tank. Mush hauled himself back up top. _Screee-eee!_ Metal let off a sharp shriek, silencing all conversation. The train-tank's body began to tilt back, the front treads spreading out as though they were jacks.

"You think you can talk shit to the Merchants, huh? Think you can bust into our territory and order us around like little minions? Well you got another thing –"

Skidmark's rant was eclipsed by the drumming of shifting metal. A second set of hydraulics kicked in, this time raising the rear. But instead of lifting the engine's main body back to horizontal, these ones lifted the bulk straight up.

Limbs. They were limbs, I realized. Squealer was not riding a crap ass tank made from repurposed train-yard parts. She was piloting a freaking mecha.

The humanoid machine wobbled as it rose. Then cubes of blue and purple light appeared, lifting the main body into an upright position. At the same time, Mush's body sloughed down over the frame. Sand coated the machine's outer body. Broken treads twisted under his power, wrapping tight around metal forearms. Tendrils sank into the earth, dragging up weeds, dirt, and debris. The mecha's frame thickened with muscles of muck, while a bulbous head grew up top.

Mouth agape, I found myself staring up at a Junkyard Junkie Voltron.

And up. And up. It was surprising how tall a train engine was when stood on end. Even with its stubby tread legs, Mecha-Chuu towered above the surrounding houses.

A pair of periscopes shot from the mecha's trash laden shoulders. The glass lenses swiveled to face the ABB, giving the pilots vision of the outside world.

A familiar presence brushed against my awareness. Grue. The only Undersider whose scent I had thus far learned. No time. I wouldn't get a better chance than this, and he was too far away to take advantage of the opening.

I surged out from behind a house, dashing in an curving arc behind Mecha-Chuu. Half of the ABB's eyes were fixed upward, staring in incredulity at the train-tank's transformation. A few heads, though, turned toward me in alarm.

I unleashed my swarm.

A buzzing mist rose around the ABB's feet. The thinner mass was joined by a greater cloud flowing in from overhead. Butterflies and moths carpet bombed my foes with a battalion of arachnid paratroopers. Bees and wasps slashed in like lances, striking with brutal stings as they swept through the group. Smaller bugs attacked with fury, slipping into mouths and nostrils. There they danced and wiggled before plunging full bore into lungs and air channels.

The ABB dropped to its knees. Coughs and sneezes mixed with shrieks of horror. Arms flapped in wild desperation. But my horde was spread too thin. Cooler heads kept their calm. _Bang!_ A rifle cracked, shot wide. More guns followed, firing half blind into the swirling mass. Useless. Taming Sari would deflect stray shots, and its lack of reaction told me that no one had drawn a bead.

A periscope swiveled in my direction. Mecha-Chuu began to turn.

"God damned bug bitch!" Skidmark shouted, loudspeaker unleashing a shrill shriek. "Squish the fuck out of her!"

"Get her Mecha-Chuu. Crush her. Crush her like an ant. Aha-ha-ha."

Squealer's raving laughter rose over the din. Mech-Chuu's right leg plunged down. Time slowed. Guided by supernatural grace, I lunged to the right. A pillar of trash, tread, and steel, thicker than I was tall, crashed down upon my wake. Earth crumbled. Mecha-Chuu's foot pierced a full meter into the dirt.

I was already back on my feet and running.

" _Anfang Ader."_

All thirteen circuits blazed with life. I tore a copy of Nanatsu-Yoru from my belt, flooding it with prana until I felt as though I were going to dry heave. The flow of time sharpened again. Jagged lines stretched over the landscape, covering flesh and rock alike. My head throbbed. Needles of pain stabbed deep into my optic nerve. The visceral sense of wrongness almost made me miss a step.

Then the blade took control of me.

My left hand slashed so fast it was nearly a flicker. The knife's blade cut deep into Saber's crystal prison, slicing along darkend lines with impossible precision. The weapon jinked twice as I cut, carving through rock as though it were melted butter.

With a jolt, Nanatsu-Yoru broke apart in my hand. Time caught up with me, smashing into my back like a hammer. I stumbled and nearly collapsed. My circuits were burning, searing with heat even as they gasped on nothingness. Shit. I gulped down a breath of air and reclaimed my feet.

Just in time.

Mecha-Chuu swiveled, coming at me with a mean left hook. Cubes of colored light – hued from purple to blue – appeared all along the arm's path. The metal fist accelerated to eye popping velocities.

Instead of moving away, I ran toward it. I shot forward like a sprinter off the blocks, muscles screaming in protest. The steel fist loomed closer, speed increasing with every frozen instant. I dived beneath, sliding under the darkened shadow. Wind thrummed with the force of its passing.

 _CRACK!_ Mecha-Chuu's arm plowed through the dirt behind me before crashing into Saber's prison. The prodigious pearl jumped ten feet into the air like a misstruck billiard ball, flying toward the line of ABB cars. Three out of five gangsters scrambled out of the way.

The other two were crushed into a fine pulp.

I grimaced and contemplated removing my swarm. The option was taken from me a moment later. A heavy cylinder exploded in the air, raining down a thin green mist.

Every bug within thirty meters died.

My fliers failed first, their wings torn apart by acidic drops. They fell from heaven in a dark hail. Their ground bound brethren met their end the moment the aerial corpses touched earth, chitin melting away in the rain leaving organs exposed. The only insects to survive were those still hidden in the shadows. The gnats tangled in cloth. The beetles hiding in bags. The spiders still crawling up through the chassis of vehicles.

I was half blind.

My swarm was my eyes, my grasping hand in the dark. It gave me incredible awareness, a constant picture of the world surrounding me. Now I was bereft. Sightless. Crippled by the loss of my horde. That I had millions upon millions of bugs still under my control hardly mattered. They weren't in the right place, and their blurry eyes granted few visual cues of the fight around me.

It wasn't a shock. I didn't stumble. I could operate without my swarm. I could track Mecha-Chuu without a glance. The bugs squeezed into the rubbish wrapped metal frame were still alive, whispering into my mind the machine's motions.

But the rest of the battlefield vanished from my sight.

That was when Oni-Lee teleported to my rear.

Hard steel stabbed into my kidney. I lurched, staggering from shock and pain. I twisted, head shifting to find what struck me. I caught Oni-Lee out of the corner of my eye, hand flashing forward to bury a knife in my neck.

A jolt ran through my arm. In a single instant, my steel baton smashed into Oni-Lee's wrist hard enough that I felt it crack. The force and suddenness threw the demon masked cape off balance. An opening. I surged forward, for once guided by Saber's training rather than Taming Sari's supernatural grace. My right foot rammed into Oni-Lee's gut with all my weight behind it.

A shadow occluded the sun.

A timelessness infinity encompassed me. I rose, pushing off Oni-Lee's folding stomach as though it were a stepping stone. I rolled, somersaulting over his head. Suspended, I caught sight of the threat. Mecha-Chuu loomed over me, limbs spread as though completing a great bellyflop. I boggled. You had to be shitting me. How the fuck did they get so high? Don't tell me that piece of crap could fly!

I hit the ground in a picture perfect breakfall. Mecha-Chuu slammed into the earth a second behind me.

 _THUD!_

My ears popped. Air pounded into my chest like a hammer. Mud and trash pressed down against me so tight I could barely breathe. How the hell was I alive? A ditch. Taming Sari had guided me to a ditch, dropping me into the one place I would not be crushed.

"Did we get her?" Squealer's voice was muffled, only audible due to Mecha-Chuu's loud speaker. "Did we get the bug bitch, Skidmark baby?"

Metal groaned. Mecha-Chuu pulled itself up. Periscopes swiveled, searching for any sign of pulverized teenager and costume mash. I scrambled to my feet, skittering out from underneath the machine's arms and legs. I ran as fast as I could, heading toward the line of sight breaking buildings five meters distant.

Bakuda's jeep screamed forward, smashing through bushes to stop on some poor sod's back porch. Her grenade launcher was raised, pointed at the ground near me. Taming Sari wouldn't be getting me out of this one.

"You missed," Bakuda noised, her muffled voice amplified by her mask. The cylinders hissed. "But I won't. Not from this distance. So don't even think about moving."

My eyes flicked over the battlefield. For all my running, I hadn't made it very far from where I started. Saber's prison was about fifteen meters away, the spherical boulder occupying a spot on top of a crushed SUV. The ABB's fighters were gathered around it, hunkered down, refusing to come any closer to the hectic fight. That didn't stop the hardcore members from pointing rifles at me. Four guns, maybe five. I was confident that Taming Sari could handle any two of them, assuming I kept at least one eye on the group.

If the situation looked bad, my options were worse. Bakuda's insecticidal mist hung in the air, denying my swarm access to the entire area. The cloud was thinning, stretched by the wind, but it would be more than a few minutes before I could let the ABB feel the brunt of my horde. My only weapons were Taming Sari, two copies of Nanatsu-Yoru, and a plain-jane combat knife. That left me shit for ranged options.

Saber was going to have to teach me how to throw the damn things, assuming both of us got out of this alive.

The one thing going my way was that Bitch and Grue were about thirty meters out. Absently, I realized that I had directed them toward Regent. Weird. I didn't remember them asking. Not that they were of much use right now. Mecha-Chuu could squash Bitch's dogs like tomatoes, and neither of them were getting within ten feet of me before Bakuda got a shot off.

Still, they were my best bet.

Come to think of it, where the hell was Archer?

"Finally got bug-girl out in the open. How does it feel, being looked down on by the Merchants, bitch? Got any last words?" Skidmark taunted.

"Nuh-uh," Bakuda said loudly while waggling her weapon. "We need her alive to flush out the rest of the rats. You can do what you want with her after that. Kill her. Shoot her up. Whatever it is human garbage does with its pets."

Mecha-Chuu folded its arms. The oddly human-like gesture caught me off guard. For the first time I noticed how smoothly the machine was moving when combined with Mush.

"Fine. I'll let you have your fun because you are paying your dues and respecting the Merchants. But don't forget whose territory you are playing in, and don't think I won't squash you if you step over the line."

"See, this is how smoothly things can go when people actually _think_ ," Bakuda said. She gestured with her gun. "Take a couple of steps back, girl. More."

I moved back as instructed, grimacing. The gap between us spread. Six meters. Seven. Eight. Each step made any escape from my position that much harder.

That, of course, was the point.

"Better," Bakuda said, the words hissing out of her mask. "That was well played back there. The swarming. The rush out. Almost worked. It would have worked, too, but you made a big mistake. You thought I was stupid."

The Tinker relaxed against the roll bar of her Jeep, her gun dipping until it pointed at her feet.

"Did you think I wouldn't figure it out? Your team might have hid most of what you did at Brockton Bay Central Bank, but bits and pieces slipped out. Anyone with a brain could figure out your team had a Brute/Trump, a Master, and Blaster. From there it only took a little preparation. A black hole grenade to suck your Brute into position and pack her in tight. A transmutation bomb to turn it all into fucking quartz so not even Alexandria could escape.

"See, that's what being smart does for you. It means you out think your fucking opponent. I'll admit, though, I almost overlooked you. I mean, what the fuck could bugs do? Still, I put together a little surprise, just in case. In fact, I made two."

With a jerk, Bakuda span the revolving chamber of the Jeep mounted mortar. Then, with an arrogant swagger, she pulled the lever on her gun. There was a deep _pop_ when the round shot out the barrel. A second later a deeper, heavier _thud_ sounded, unleashing a second spray of green mist.

"That's the difference between the two of us. You see, you made a plan, but you forgot to take into consideration that your opponent might be intelligent. Because of that, you fucked up. You fucked up twice. Once when you thought I couldn't do anything about your bugs. The second time when you thought that dinky little knife was going to do anything to – "

 _Duuum._ A guttural shudder made us all jerk. The crystal sphere wobbled atop the SUV before sliding off the top at a slow roll. From there, its descent back into the crater where it formed was an inevitability.

"The fuck?" Bakuda said.

"And this why I hate fucking Tinkers. They always think they have everything figured out, then they go and screw the shit out of everything," Skidmark growled.

"Wait, Skidmark baby, you don't mean me when you said that, did you?" Squealer's voice questioned, barely audible over the stalking steps of the great machine.

Mecha-Chuu cocked back a fist ready to smash the sphere into bits.

"Don't you fucking dare, you stupid drugged up idiots. You hit that thing and you're more likely to let her out than kill her, assuming she's not dead already," Bakuda shouted, pointing her gun at the machine. The weapon quickly switched back to me. "And don't even think about it. I might be keeping you alive to drag out the rest of you Unit 09 fuckers, but there is nothing that says I can't kill you right now."

I stopped and took a consoling step back. Bakuda failed to notice that the gap between us was now seven meters instead of eight.

"Fine, we'll play it your way. But when it turns out I was right, and it will, you and I'll both remember that it's drugged up Skidmark who is the smarter of the pair. Capiche?"

"Save me from fucking morons, if Lung hadn't given orders, I swear I would turn you all into ash," Bakuda spat back. "Now, where were we?"

 _Duuum_. It sounded as though the earth had been struck. A weighty note, heavier than before and strong enough that I could feel it in my chest. This time I could hear the stone crackle and pop, dark lines spreading along the crystal, the deepest and thickest growing from where my blade struck.

"I told you, leave it alone!" Bakuda shouted preemptively. "It's just the crystals settling, letting out stress. There is no way anyone could move in there. No leverage. No way to apply force. No way to get out, unless you – "

 _Chung. Shink._ It was a sharp, loud, metallic reverberation that interrupted Bakuda for the third time. A darkened hole as broad and thick as my hand opened in the crystal sphere. Wind rippled at that point, giving momentary glimpses of steel and golden light. Then the gap began to spread, sheering along a diagonal line.

Saber was cutting her way out.

"And that's what happens if you fucking wait!" Skidmark yelled.

Mecha-Chuu reared back. The machine swung, fist flashing through colored cubes. _CRACK!_ The sound was like thunder. Quartz splintered where metal struck. The sphere sank half a meter deeper into the dirt.

"You fucking morons! You're just letting her out faster!" Bakuda spat.

The bomb Tinker fumbled with her weapon then popped out the revolving cylinder that held her ammunition. She patted her box, desperately searching for the right bomb to shove into the empty slot.

A mistake.

Shock, panic, and fear had drawn Bakuda's eye. For that brief moment, she had forgotten I existed. Even if she noticed now, it would take her a handful of seconds to restore her weapon to operating order.

The perfect opening.

The most logical choice was to run. If I rushed toward a blindspot, Bakuda probably wouldn't notice my flight. And if she did? Then what? Would Bakuda ignore _Saber_ in favor of _bug girl?_ Not likely.

But if I fled, Bakuda would get a free shot. Saber was tough. Tougher than I could've possibly imagined. For all I knew, Saber could take Bakuda's worst and laugh it off. Shit, Saber probably didn't need my help to break out of that crystal. Fighting Bakuda to save Saber was stupid.

Yet, if there was anyone who could bypass Saber's power, it was a bomb Tinker.

And there was no way in hell I was letting a member of my team die.

So I ran forward.

First step.

Five circuits flared, rising from a dull heat to an inferno in an instant. My power twisted. Range dropped in half. Control scattered. The intensity increased.

Second step.

My circuits fired again, doubling down on the exchange. My range plummeted to a bare fifty meters. New shapes flickered at the edge of my awareness, shadowy forms just outside the scope of my control. They called to me, ephemeral, intangible, yet undeniably present. I had a sense that if I reached out and tuned in, I could touch them.

Pointless. My focus was laser sharp. My mind did not waver a single iota. My foot hit ground in a third, loping step.

My swarm sputtered. The horde of millions was reduced to mere thousands, my range faltering before it reached the edge of Bakuda's toxic cloud. The only insects still under my control were the worms buried deep in Mecha-Chuu, the spiders clinging to the bottom of Bakuda's jeep, and all the bugs crawling in the darkness of her bag.

I kept the last firm in my mind as I took a fourth step. Control eroded further. No hearing. No vision. No touch. All I could sense of my minions was their presence. I was blind, crippled in a way I had never experienced since the day I had first awoken my power.

Then that range faded further, barely touching Bakuda, as I made one final lunge. The Tinker was turning, shocked at my approach. The revolving cylinder of her grenade launcher snapped back into place with surprising alacrity.

But it was already too late.

With four meters between us, all thirteen circuits blazed to life. Prana seared through my system, flowing out into my swarm through my inner world. Bugs became limbs and their legs my fingers. Everything they gripped, I touched. My mystic leverage was five times amplified, and with all that strength I pushed.

Three days was hardly a blink in the education of a magus. Structural Analysis came easily to me. Maybe because the mystery matched my element. Maybe because the spell was simple at its root. Reinforcement, though, continued to elude me. For all my trials, I had not once succeeded in reinforcing so much as a candle.

But I didn't try to reinforce Bakuda's bombs _right_.

I reinforced them _wrong_.

When I pushed, Bakuda's bomblets pulled. The munitions soaked up my prana like thirsty children drawing on a straw. I had barely a second to think before Taming Sari screamed its warning. My body jerked back, pausing in mid-step, the tendons in my calves straining so hard I could feel them about to snap. I reversed direction. Then, guided by my baton's divine finesse, I pulled my limbs together and curled up into a ball.

The first shock hit me before I touched ground.

What struck me was not a sound but rather pure, unadulterated force. A mack truck slammed into my body at highway speeds, smashing arms and legs against my chest so hard I was shocked they didn't crack. That wave was followed by a flickering explosion of brilliant light. Electric plasma flowed through the air, forming sheets of lightning thicker than the ocean. The cascading bolts tore through me, silk sparking then bursting into flame as the torrential current rippled within the fibers.

The atmosphere caught fire.

Nitrogen burned. For one millisecond, I was in the heart of the sun. The next, I was cast into arctic tundra. Icy fingers spread across the sky, stretching out in fine tendrils of frost.

Finally, spring warmth.

I hit the ground, tumbled twice, then rolled to a stop. My muscles convulsed, my nerves singing a cacophony of chaotic signals. I uncurled, limbs still jittering from the shock. Dizzily, I caught sight of what I had wrought.

The scene was, quite literally, frozen in time. Bakuda had been ripped in half by an avalanche of explosions. Her head and shoulders floated two meters above the shattered remnants of her chest, arms caught forever in the moment of disintegration. The rest of Bakuda's body could not be seen, obscured by frost and fire. The blaze spread out over the Tinker's waist before wrapping around the jeep in a roiling cloud. The flames were strange. Dull. Dark. Subdued. The fire's glow was dim, illuminated more by the reflection of light than by the energy unleashed within.

Tendrils of ice spread from the same origin like great talons. A few frozen shards circled back, glacial chill embracing stilled flame.

But what truly drew my eye was the lightning. The shadowed blades of plasma criss-crossed the stagnant hemisphere. Yet, unlike everything else, they crawled. Slow. Sluggish. Almost stagnant. At at glance they didn't seem to move at all, but in the shifting of a second I saw them slither. Electricity squirmed, seeping through the static space like a droplet of honey oozing down a side of glass.

 _TONG!_

The crash of metal drew me from my stupor. Mecha-Chuu's fist smashed into Saber's guard. With flawless elegance, the diminutive blonde flowed around the blow, diverting the strike with minimal force. It looked effortless, despite the impossible reality that Mecha-Chuu out-massed Saber by more than a thousand to one.

The great machine rolled off balance. Then a second arm whipped around, guided by the colored cubes that marked Skidmark's power. _BANG!_ The limb hit with a shockwave, shattering the quartz shell Saber had recently escaped. Saber danced to the side, a light sidestep carrying her just out of reach.

It was chaos.

The ABB's formation was broken. The wild strikes of Mecha-Chuu, the emergence of Saber, and the death of Bakuda had obliterated their morale. The hard core of the ABB's ranks screamed and shouted, barking out orders to organize those that remained. Most of Bakuda's troops turned tail and ran. A slim remainder stayed to fight, pinned in place by the threat of sword and gun.

But their fight was not with the threats surrounding them. Instead, the ABB imploded on itself.

An older man in a business suit smashed the stalk of his hunting rifle into the face of an ABB thug in full color. The gangbanger fell to his knees, spitting out teeth. A handgun fired. The business man jerked. Another shot replied, blowing out the brains of a second ABB officer. The screamed orders grew louder. The scuffle accelerated, ABB thugs versus ABB civilians. A school aged teenager emptied her gun into a gangbanger only to be cut down by an axe. A bulky shopkeeper bashed in a skull with an aluminum bat.

For a second, it looked as though the civilians would win. Then a slew of automatic fire dropped two members of the resistance.

The last of the civilians threw down their guns.

Then three hounds of hell promptly ripped through the ABB's cover.

Angelica rammed into the side of a land rover, flipping the vehicle end over end. The van sized beast turned, whipping its tail across the chest of an ABB thug. One of the few ABB veterans raised an assault rifle. Judas dropped down from a roof, bearing Grue on his back. The hood of a sedan caved beneath the monster's paws, metal crumbling under the creature's incredible mass. Before I could blink, Judas snapped the gun out of the ABB gangbanger's hands crushing steel between teeth.

Angelica's vicious growl broke all resolve. The ABB fled in a rout.

Skidmark's amplified howl echoed over the battlefield.

"Ha, ha, ha. How does it feel being on the other side, blondie?"

"This is for hurting Skidmark," Squealer raved beside him. "Die! Die! Die!"

The fight between Merchants and Saber had not let up in the slightest. Mecha-Chuu swung its fists with wild abandon, having no pretense of fighting style. It hardly needed one. The machine's limbs were like mountains and struck with the fury of thunder. Each blow hit with the guttural _thud_ of a bomb going off. A shack tore to splinters with a single swing, roof fluttering through the sky like discarded paper. The earth cratered in Mecha-Chuu's wake, ground crushed and shredded by mechanical feet.

It was like being in the midst of an artillery barrage.

Through it all, Saber endured.

The blonde floated back with infinite grace, drawing the machine away from potential victims. Her invisible blade clashed with Mecha-Chuu's fists, sheering away hunks of garbage and metal. Heavenly. Immaculate. A flawless hero torn from the cover of a PRT propaganda poster. Saber fought with awe inspiring beauty, perfect in a way no other human could ever hope to be.

Bitch and Brutus swooped around the battlefield, followed by Grue and her two other dogs. Regent was tucked behind Bitch, clutching the butch girl's back. They skidded to a stop in front of me. A welcome sight. Bone plate, split skin, slavering jaws, and all.

"Get the fuck on," Bitch commanded, motioning toward Angelica's empty back.

Bitch looked less than happy to have Regent clinging to her, but I doubted the renaissance themed Master would stay saddled without her help.

"Need a hand up?" Grue asked as he and Judas rolled around to my side.

I blinked. Oh. I was still lying on the ground, wasn't I?

"I'm fine," I waved off, shuffling to my feet.

My circuits throbbed. They ached with a deep, gnawing hollowness that was worse by far than the searing heat of prana. I felt dull. Empty. Desolate. A weariness gripped me that defied conventional description.

 _Beenden._ The mental command silenced my circuits. I clambered onto Angelica's back in a daze, gripping the monster's bone spires to hold my position. I hesitated then slipped Taming Sari into a belt loop. Yielding the safety the weapon offered was hard, but I didn't trust myself to remain seated without two hands.

It would be embarrassing to die from a broken neck after all that.

"What's the plan?"

Angelica surged beneath me, pulling us another good fifty-meters from the fight. Grue and Judas turned. The dark suited cape eyed the fierce melee between Saber and Mecha-Chuu.

"We pull out," Grue said finally. "I don't think we'll do anyone any good in the middle of that."

Grue gestured. A football field away, Mecha-Chuu spun like a demented top. Saber retreated, flickering just out of range. Then, just as suddenly, she flashed back in. Metal crashed. Saber's blade smashed Mecha-Chuu's left arm up into the air with explosive force. The machine tilted, upper body swaying high as its right foot sank through the floorboards of a house. Mecha-Chuu's arms continued their whirl then crashed into the dirt, sending the machine spinning along the ground and through a second dilapidated domicile.

Saber dashed after, seeking to capitalize upon the moment's weakness.

I grimaced. I hated being useless. "We may as well. I'm on empty, and even if I had a plan..."

We would only get in the way. Saber was on a different level. Just by being here, we were dragging her down. On her own, Saber would have crushed the Merchants in the first bout. And, without those four providing a distraction, I doubted Bakuda would have gotten half as lucky.

"Powers aren't fair," Grue answered with a shrug. "Let's get going. Archer sent us to back you up while he headed downtown to bailout Caster. It would be best if we linked up before doing anything else."

Caster. My gut twisted.

"About –"

A fist smashed into my face. I reeled, the mandibles of my costume grinding into my jaw. I swayed with the blow, still dazed by the prior explosions. A masked face wavered in my field of vision, demonic visage parting into two. Clone or double vision?

Oni-Lee tackled me off Angelica's back before I could complete the thought.

I slammed into the ground. Air whooshed out of my lungs. The world wobbled. Oni-Lee reared back and planted a hard straight in the middle of my mask. Once. Twice. My nose cracked. My head rung. My eyes filled with tears. I flailed in panic. Somehow, the wild motion of my arms blocked Oni-Lee's follow up.

I had a second to breathe.

Through the bugs trickling into the void Bakuda had carved, I caught sight of pandemonium. A second Oni-Lee was slung atop Angelica, his knife sliding over bone plates as it sought to pierce her neck. Angelica barked, bucked, and snapped, but her teeth failed to reach.

Bitch screamed in anger.

Brutus lunged. Regent fell off the monster's back. Giant jaws clamped down on the clone's head and tore it clean off. Oni-Lee puffed into a ten-foot wide cloud of gray ash. In the same moment a third Oni-Lee appeared, taking Regent's place, knife in hand.

He stabbed.

Regent's arm twitched. Oni-Lee missed. Instead of ripping through Bitch's throat, the Mover's knife dug deep into her collar. Bitch's face contorted with rage. She twisted, knife wound tearing wider, and threw an elbow into Oni-Lee's mask.

The blow knocked him off Brutus's back.

The beast turned and pounced. Fangs tore through flesh as though it were water.

Another fist smashed into my arms. Oni-Lee pounded my guard twice more, then tried to sneak a knife through the gap he opened. The blade scraped against the spider silk shielding my neck. Fuck this. I batted Oni-Lee's arm aside with my right while reaching for my knife with my left.

The demon-masked clone's time expired before I could thrust.

But not before he dropped a single, egg shaped object

Ah hell.

I surged before I could think. My right hand closed on the oval object. I twisted, rising to my feet to throw with all my strength. _BOOM!_ The weapon made it a quarter of the way through its arc before exploding. The pressure wave hit me head on and slapped me back to the ground. Jagged metal plinked off my armored costume like heavy hail.

Ears ringing, I stared at the sky and blinked the spots from my vision.

Which left me in the perfect position to spot another horrible thing coming straight down on top of us.

"LUNG!"

"Fall –"

Grue started to shout, but was cut off when Oni-Lee smashed right into him. The pair went down in a rolling heap of fists and fury. Unlike my own tumble, Grue quickly kicked the demon-masked cape off and scrambled to his feet. A pulse of darkness enshrouded them both.

"Go, go, go!" Grue ordered, his voice distorted by the rising mist.

Bitch let out a shrill whistle. Brutus reared and reversed course. I struggled to rise only to be smashed back down by a mass many times greater than my own. Angelica's teeth gripped the back of my costume, wrenching me forward faster than I could have hoped to run.

Lung crashed down behind us.

Something was awry. The silver dragon did not land with a graceful swoop. He hit the dirt like an out of control meteor, spewing white hot fire as he tumbled. Lung's perforated wings twisted beneath him, snapping with sick cracks. Lung rolled to his feet. A clawed fore leg was pulverized. Three out of four wings were shorn off. His back was a shining armory of white bladed steel.

The dragon reared up onto his hind claws, colossal, serpentine body rising. Lung's head tilted toward the sky. A brilliant flame gathered in his maw.

 _Whu-whu-whu_. Half-a-dozen black blades boomeranged in out of nowhere. The swords pounded into Lung's chest with force of a cannon, causing the great dragon to slide three steps back and choke on his breath.

Archer fell from heaven like a vengeful god.

We came to a stop. Angelica dropped me on the ground. I winced. My limbs were bruised and battered from the bumps and bangs of being dragged across the cratered battlefield. If I was bad, Regent was worse. Regent clutched his gut wound, the white gauze I had slapped on painted crimson by his blood.

"This day just doesn't fucking quit," he gasped.

"I hear you," I muttered. I tried to stand. I was surprised when I succeeded. "Everyone okay?"

Almost as if to answer my question, Bitch slumped then fell off Brutus's back. I caught her before she hit the earth.

"Don't fucking touch me," Bitch spat.

The truculent girl's teeth were gritted against the pain. One hand pressed against the wound Oni-Lee had opened in her collar. I ignored Bitch's complaints and instead helped her to the ground. Seeing as how Bitch made no real attempt to fight me on it, I figured her whining had more bark than bite.

"Would you fucking shut up? The only reason you aren't breathing through your neck is because I saved your sorry ass," Regent groused, having not one scrap of my sympathy. "Now let Overmind patch you up so you don't black out and leave us stranded without transport. You can finish bleeding out later if that's what you want."

Bitch turned toward Regent and glared.

"Sit still," I ordered, getting out my medical pack for the second time today.

There were only two good things that could be said of our situation. We were out of the fight and Bakuda's cloud had _finally_ dissipated. Better yet, the siren's call I had let loose earlier had paid dividends. My swarm was flush and overflowing with dangerous fliers.

Now if I only had someone to use them on.

As I worked, I took in the battlefield.

Grue had retreated in the direction opposite we had gone, which left him halfway between Lung and Mecha-Chuu. Grue, wisely, chose to hunker down, joining the scattered remnants of the ABB hoping to wait out the storm. Oni-Lee had pulled out as well. Currently, the demon-masked cape was nursing his wounds atop a rare, sorry looking, two storied building.

The battle between Archer and Lung was intense.

Lung reared, his silver tail smashing down on Archer like a whip. Archer hopped over the limb, sizzling boot tapping against the scaled surface. The redhead flashed into the opening, his two-handed blade sheering through a wing before it could fully form. Lung howled and twisted. A claw brushed Archer's chest, razor sharp claws cutting into his ashen gray coat, leaving the fibers charcoaled.

At a glance, it looked as though Archer was losing. The redhead cooked in the rolling waves of sweltering heat Lung let off. Lung grew stronger with every passing second. His wounds closed. But that was where things defied expectation. Lung's wounds closed with agonizing slowness. All four wings were gone, the empty husks pouring out rivers of blood. _Deeper. More complete_. I recalled my own words. Injuries delivered by a noble phantasm were not something anyone could shrug off.

Not even Lung.

Compared to the fight with Lung, the battle between Saber and the Merchants was clinical. Mecha-Chuu hammered the ground with deafening strikes. Saber slipped between them, effortlessly judging each attack. The tiny blonde stepped in. Her sword rang against metal, carving deep into Mecha-Chuu's left ankle as though it were a woodsman's axe.

With repeated blows, Saber had hewed halfway through.

"Keep her away!" Squealer shrieked.

Mecha-Chuu jumped back, sailing a score of meters through the air, its motion aided by Skidmark's power. The machine landed with earth rumbling force, legs cleaving broad pits into the dirt.

"For fuck's sake, hit her already!" Skidmark yelled.

Mecha-Chuu lunged back into the battle.

Saber did the last thing I expected. She turned and ran.

In the same moment, Lung coiled. The dragon's body drew back like a snake. The fire Lung had swallowed returned with a vengeance. A white hot flare shot from the serpent's throat in a blinding beam of light. The searing heat slaughtered every bug within five meters.

Then it stopped cold.

In place of his sword, Archer held a shield. The frigid metal drank the roaring flame as though it were water, leaving in its wake a winter's chill. Archer leapt back, discarding his armament by throwing it high into the sky. In its place, he generated a black bow.

Lung exploded forward.

A blue streak smashed into Lung's jaw. His head was blown back. The serpent jinked, four parted maw spreading wide to swallow Saber who suddenly stood at the fore. Saber side-stepped, sliding around to Lung's flank while snatching Archer's shield from the air.

Except it was a shield no longer.

While flipping through the heavens, the metal plate had contorted itself into a crude, barbed spear. Saber held the lance with ease then lunged, all her weight and power behind that single thrust. The sharpened point met scale and bone then punched straight through. The spear sank deep into Lung's ribs, eliciting an incredible howl from the enraged serpent.

The area around him suddenly went cold.

Archer turned. His back to Lung, the redhead drew his bow. On the string sat a twisted hunk of metal. Mecha-Chuu lumbered forward. With infinite patience, Archer sighted the machine.

" _Caladbolg."_

The sky ripped apart.

The arrow left Archer's bow with a banshee's wail. The air warped as it passed, pulling everything into a spiral of whirling space. The projectile reached the charging Mecha-Chuu in a blink. It did not stop. One instant there was gargantuan machine of garbage and steel. The next, the whole of Mecha-Chuu's waist and half its thighs were gone.

Metal shards were cast about as shrapnel. Every surface within fifty meters was suddenly blanketed by steel. Without its legs, Mecha-Chuu fell. The machine's upper body plowed into the dirt, rolling, rumbling before finally sliding to a stop. Mecha-Chuu's arms pressed against the earth, trying to lift the main body. It was useless. Mush's trash was sloughing off in chunks.

Weakness.

The train engine's rear was open to the air. An opportunity I wasn't going to miss. My swarm curled overhead, then dove. Hornets. Bees. The heaviest hitters I could find filled Mecha-Chuu's shattered interior, relentlessly punishing occupants hidden inside.

"Bitch, get those dogs of yours to tear those motherfuckers out," I said viciously, while taping the last of my gauze to her collar.

Bitch scowled, jerking her arm away when she realized I was done. She looked over at Brutus and gestured with her good hand. "Fetch."

Brutus and Angelica took off at a run, angling for the disabled Mecha-Chuu.

With the Merchants removed from the equation, Archer and Saber double teamed Lung.

Unit 09 attacked from two angles. Saber smashed Lung from the front. Her invisible blade sliced through scale, tearing gaping wounds in Lung's flesh. While the dragon was distracted, Archer ran up Lung's back. A two-handed sword formed in the redhead's empty hands then struck twice. Still-born wings fell from the dragon's back in a flutter of leathery canvas.

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"

Lung roared. The dragon twisted, serpentine neck twining around to cross over Lung's own back. The monster's maw spread wide, curved teeth as long as daggers glistening like steel in the light. Archer leapt back. Too slow.

But Saber was faster.

The tiny blonde stepped in. Her invisible blade cut like lightning. The steel caught Lung's front-right claw on the joint then cut unerring through the gap between bones. Lung's arm fell away. The dragon's body dipped. His yawning maw snapped shut, centimeters short.

Saber swung again, this time aiming for the serpent's throat. Lung jinked back.

Which left him open when Archer plunged his sword straight through the back of Lung's neck. The beast roared and twisted, but Saber slammed him down with an explosion of light. Hopping back, Archer touched ground, formed a crooked blade, then thrust it into Lung's severed stump.

Oni-Lee appeared at Archer's rear.

The redhead whirled, evading the demon-masked cape's knife blind. Black and white swords appeared in Archer's hands. The first took Oni-Lee in the gut. The second removed the Mover's head entirely.

The clone burst into ash.

Archer reversed course. With an Olympic leap, he vaulted over Lung then used the dragon's body to throw himself another ten feet back. _BOOM!_ Oni-Lee's grenade exploded in Lung's face. The serpent absorbed the blast without a flinch, his neck twisting in pursuit of Archer.

Instead of moving to support, Saber shifted then swung her sword at empty air.

Except it wasn't empty.

Oni-Lee appeared right in the midst of Saber's slash. Her weapon whipped through him without the slightest pause, leaving behind another cloud of ash. For a second, I thought he escaped. Then my swarm caught glimpse of Oni-Lee landing seven and nine meters away, legs and waist separated from his torso.

Lung's jaws touched Archer's coat. Archer leapt back another incredible step, covering superhuman lengths with a single stride. The dragon charged after, only to stumble over its missing claw. The severed limb had yet to heal. No. It was worse than that. The stump wasn't healing at all.

That mistake was all it took. Saber pushed forward, her blade smashing Lung's head down into the dirt with an explosion of light. Before he could recover, the blonde locked her blade against his neck. From her current position, Saber could cut Lung's head right off.

Or, at least, make a good try of it anyway.

"Yield," Saber demanded.

Baleful eyes glared at the blonde. I could see Lung's muscles shift, readying himself to take the risk.

"By now you know I can deliver wounds which can only be healed by natural means," Archer said firmly, black bow in hand. On the weapon's string sat a coiled arrow with an asymmetric, harpoon-like barb. "So rest assured that, if you survive Saber's blade, I will see to your end shortly after."

Stillness. Lung's eyes boiled with hate. The air throbbed with quickly devoured heat. Then, with a deep, rumbling growl, Lung drooped to the ground. Saber held the serpent there for a long moment more, blade pressed against scale. She only withdrew the invisible weapon when the dragon began to shrink.

The fight was over.

"You two think you can move enough to meet up with the others?" I asked.

"I said I'm fine," Bitch replied stubbornly while leaning against Judas. She let out a shrill whistle, calling back her two other mutts.

"Shouldn't the healthy people come to the injured, not the other way around?" Regent grumbled.

He made a show of getting up. Bitch's face scrunched with annoyance at his slowness. With complete disregard to her own injury, the sturdy girl grabbed the back of Regent's pants and hoisted him onto Judas. From Bitch's grimace, she belatedly realized how bad an idea that was.

"Hold him on," she ordered.

I hopped onto Judas without question, letting Regent grab me around the waist. I wasn't about to argue, the quicker I got these two to Saber, the better.

"Hey, does this mean we've hooked up?" Regent teased.

"You're still on about that?" I voiced with disgust.

Brutus and Angelica met us halfway, shepherding a trio of gifts. The Merchants were beaten, broken, covered in bruises and welts. Mush scurried slightly behind the other two, shoulders scrunched. Squealer clung to Skidmark, rivers of tears and mascara running down her cheeks. The two monstrous dogs hounded the Merchants, pressing them forward at a fast pace. Vicious growls and peeled back lips kept the villains moving.

When Skidmark moved too slowly, Brutus slammed him forward with the weight of his head.

"I said we surrender, you stupid fucking piece of shit," Skidmark ranted, catching his stumble.

The blue suited cape kicked at the beast. Brutus's jaws snapped just short of Skidmark's knee in warning. Skidmark hopped back fearfully, nearly pulling Squealer off balance.

"Don't call my dogs stupid," Bitch growled, stalking forward.

Bitch gripped the bones on Brutus's back then pulled herself on top. This time she managed to avoid using her injured side. Judas moved around to take Brutus's former place. I glared down at Skidmark, bugs whirling around us in a massive cloud.

"Move it," I ordered.

"Hey, I know you saw that blonde shit bust up my ribs, you dumb ass bitch," Skidmark spat. "Show a little resp – "

My swarm buzzed with my anger. A horde of wasps peeled from the cloud, forming at my back in a shadowed halo. My words were cold and crisp. Skidmark had tried to murder me, there were no _ifs_ or _buts_ about it. His carelessness had killed several others. As far as I was concerned, he should be fucking grateful I was playing nice.

"We have injured people here as well. So, right now, you are on my list as my least concern," I said darkly. "But if you want, I can move you to the top."

The swarm surged forward. A heavy mass carpeted Skidmark, making him stagger under the sheer weight. Squealer cringed back with a shriek, abandoning her boyfriend wholesale.

The blue suited scofflaw froze stiff.

"Skidmark baby, let's listen to the crazy bug girl," Squealer squeaked.

Blessed silence.

It took mere moments to drive the Merchants toward Saber and Archer. Saber offered a stalwart nod at our approach, but remained at stiff attention at her post. The tiny blonde loomed over the defeated Lung, who sat legs folded at her feet. The dragon cape had returned to his human form, his size reduced to a mere ten feet.

ABB leader regarded me with a steady gaze as I dismounted. He was unbroken. Lung stood tall in his defeat. Metal mask was torn from his head. Clothes had burned away leaving only scales and naked skin. Bleeding scars stretched across his flesh, closing slowly. The only wound that remained was the stump of his right arm. Lung held it with his left hand, flesh sizzling and blood bubbling as he cauterized his own wound.

 _That_ deserved respect. I met Lung's eyes with my own. I waited for the anger to come. Nothing. I saw in him my first fight, my first victory, and my first brush with death. Memories of Caster brought pain and regret rather than hatred and fury. I expected to see her murder in Lung's eyes.

Instead, all I glimpsed was a glimmer of respect.

Archer's eyes flicked to Bitch's injured arm then Regent's gut before scrutinizing me. "Is everyone alright?"

"Fuck no," Regent groused, letting himself down with my help.

"Allow me to rephrase that," Archer said, folding his arms. "Will any of you die in the next hour if left untreated?"

"We'll be fine as soon as Saber does some healing," I said, looking at the blonde.

"I regret that my ability to cure wounds is somewhat of a special case," Saber corrected. "If it is necessary, Archer and I have the means to take action. However, it would be preferable to wait for Caster to resolve the scenario."

I winced. They didn't know?

"About – "

"Nobody move!"

The gruff shout made me jerk. Trainwreck stepped out from behind a house three buildings away. In his right hand rested the mangled remains of a machine gun, barrel bent back into position and ammo box riveted into place with duct tape and wire. Dangling from Trainwreck's left hand was Grue, helmet half crushed by the fingers of Trainwreck's steampunk suit.

Shit. My swarm buzzed angrily. Archer formed a bow and notched an arrow. Saber shifted, boots grinding against the dirt. My mind raced at a million miles an hour. Trainwreck was too far away to muster a proper response. My bugs were useless. Archer's arrows would just bounce off Trainwreck's armor, unless he used the same trick as he did against Mecha-Chuu, and in that case there would be nothing left of Trainwreck or Grue.

"Trainwreck!" Skidmark called jovially. The blue suited cape spread his arms in wide welcome. His lips split into a shit eating grin. It was the most grotesque thing I ever saw. Skidmark's teeth were darkened, rotting husks pockmarked by craters. "I knew you were a real fucking Merchant. And to think, Mush kept insisting that you were a fucking spy."

Trainwreck waved his gun threateningly, ignoring his boss's overtures. "None of that now. Get rid of that bow. And, girly, move your bugs well away. Try any tricks and I crush your friend's head like a grape."

Archer let his weapon vanish and gave a sharp nod toward Saber and me, telling us to back off. Saber shifted into a parade rest, her invisible blade thrust into the earth before her and gauntleted hands set atop the indiscernible hilt. I drew my horde away, emptying a space thirty meters around Trainwreck.

"See, that wasn't so hard," Trainwreck said, almost conversationally. "Now, let's make this nice and easy. I have something you want. You have something I want. The Merchants walk. I let your friend walk. We all on the same page?"

"Sounds reasonable," Archer replied, his deep voice raised to cut across the gap. "Then we make this fair. The Merchants and Grue move forward at the same time."

" _Nuh uh_ ," Trainwreck countered. "Do you think I'm stupid? If we do it like that, what's to stop you from putting an arrow straight through my noggin? Not to mention how that blonde angel of yours would run us down in a second.

"No. This is how this is going to play. Squealer is going to take one of those cars the ABB abandoned. She is going to drive it over _here_ with all the Merchants inside. Then I'm going to load up with my lucky charm and ride away into the sunset. If everyone behaves, we'll drop off your boy on a corner street later tonight."

"You don't think we're going to agree to that?" I said hotly. "Why the hell would we believe that you'll let Grue go?"

Trainwreck's gaze and gun swayed my way. His demeanor shifted and his tone gained an edge, growing darker, more threatening.

"Girly, the question you should be asking, is why the fuck would I keep him? Holding a cape is more trouble than its worth. But make no mistake, I like my freedom more this fellow's life," Trainwreck said, shaking Grue dangerously in the air. "So, if you know what's good for you, you'll stop fucking around and get a move on."

Archer nodded toward Skidmark. Skidmark shot me a smarmy smile that would have been a whole lot more irritating if his face was not covered in red welts.

"Well, bug bitch, you've earned my respect," he said with a suave bow. "So next time don't expect things to go half as easy when you fuck with the Merchants."

He turned away and motioned toward the ABB wreckage. "Squealer, babe, get us a car."

Squealer perked. "Any car?"

"Any car you fucking want," Skidmark said generously. "Just make sure it is big enough to fit five. No, make that six. Trainwreck's got a little heft to him."

I scowled. The Merchants sauntered past.

Archer kept a stern eye on on the trio until they were a good three meters away from our group. When his gaze returned to Trainwreck, it was grim.

"I have done as you asked, but know that by taking this approach, you have lost any measure of my mercy," Archer declared coldly.

I shivered. The air was chilled and heavy. Icy fingers crawled down my back, raising goosebumps along my arms and spine. I could sense the danger. The lingering threat clung to the atmosphere like the physical embodiment of Archer's resolve.

"That's nice, but I think I'll stick with the option that leaves me –"

Trainwreck's words choked off in mid-sentence. Crackling ice exploded from the Tinker's elbow. The limb shattered like glass. Grue hit the ground along side frozen chunks of flesh and armor. My eyes shot wide in confusion. Trainwreck, closer to the threat, turned to face it.

In the same moment, the Tinker depressed the trigger of his gun.

 _B-b-bang!_ A spray of bullets lashed past our position, flying wild with Trainwreck's pain and panic. Something heavy brushed my arm. Metal _tinked_ , ricocheting off Saber's blade. I dove for the ground. Archer moved beside me, whether to defend or attack I did not know.

It didn't matter. Ten meters behind Trainwreck, the air warped and warbled. Caster burst from empty space, a red beam stretching from her hands to touch Trainwreck's heart.

" _Gae Bolg."_

-oOo-

 _ **Gae Bolg** [Canonical Phantasm]  
Projected Noble Phantasm – Rank C/C+ – Anti-Unit, Anti-Army_

 _The barbed spear that pierces with death. Gae Bolg was the favored weapon of Cú Chulainn, Lancer of the Fifth War. When activated as an Anti-Unit phantasm, Gae Bolg reverses causality producing a result best described as: "The heart has been pierced, therefore Gae Bolg was unfailingly thrust."_

 _In remembrance of Lancer's sacrifice in the Fifth War, Rin adopted Gae Bolg as her noble phantasm of preference – stating that: "Lancer will rest easy knowing that his bloodthirsty spear sees battle." Since then her style has adapted to its inclusion._

 _ **Caladbolg** [Canonical Phantasm]  
Projected Noble Phantasm – Rank B+ – Anti-Army_

 _The Rainbow Sword wielded by Fergus mac Róich that was said to be strong enough to cleave through three hills. The weapon eventually found its way into the armory of the Archer of the Fifth War, who primarily used the variant Caladbolg II as an arrow of unparalleled power._

 _Shirou Emiya himself gained the capacity to project Caladbolg through his exposure to Archer and the absorption of the Servant's psyche. Despite Shirou's many advancements on Archer's original armory, Caladbolg II remains a weapon all but impossible to beat in terms of raw destructive force._


	11. Chapter 11

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 11**  
-oOo-

" _I have done as you asked, but know that by taking this approach, you have lost any measure of my mercy," Archer declared coldly._

 _I shivered. The air was chilled and heavy. Icy fingers crawled down my back, raising goosebumps along my arms and spine. I could sense the danger. The lingering threat clung to the atmosphere like the physical embodiment of Archer's resolve._

" _That's nice, but I think I'll stick with the option that leaves me –"_

 _Trainwreck's words choked off in mid-sentence. Crackling ice exploded from the Tinker's elbow. The limb shattered like glass. Grue hit the ground along side frozen chunks of flesh and armor. My eyes shot wide in confusion. Trainwreck, closer to the threat, turned to face it._

 _In the same moment, the Tinker depressed the trigger of his gun._

 _B-b-bang! A spray of bullets lashed past our position, flying wild with Trainwreck's pain and panic. Something heavy brushed my arm. Metal tinked, ricocheting off Saber's blade. I dove for the ground. Archer moved beside me, whether to defend or attack I did not know._

 _It didn't matter. Ten meters behind Trainwreck, the air warped and warbled. Caster burst from empty space, a red beam stretching from her hands to touch Trainwreck's heart._

"Gae Bolg."

-oOo-

Crimson punched through Trainwreck's chest, lifting him high as though on a spit. The spear's tip splintered into a thousand rose red barbs. Blades sheered through the Tinker's steam punk suit, blossoming into a flower of blood and metal.

Petals of rust scattered in the wind, fluttering as they faded into evanescent motes.

 _Ra-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!_

Trainwreck's machingun continued its retort. Caster shifted her spear to one hand, then reached up with her now free right. With a wrenching motion, she tore munition box from gun. The last few bullets cycled through. The firearm went quiet, dropping the entire battlefield into eerie silence.

Trainwreck choked out a final gasp, then went still.

 _Clong_. Caster dropped his cooling corpse onto the street like refuse. With a sick slurp, she tore her spear from Trainwreck's chest. She needn't have bothered. The weapon was a whirl of evaporating dust. Soon, nothing remained of the spear but dimming light.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Skidmark howled behind. "We surrender. We surrender!"

I looked around, still dazed by shock. In my moment of distraction Saber and Archer had reacted like a well oiled machine. The tiny blonde pressed Skidmark's face against the pavement with a steel boot. Squealer cowered behind a steering wheel. Mush had his hands up, held at arrow point by Archer. Any chance that the Merchants would escape had been squashed, thanks to the claymore thrust through the SUV's engine block.

"Everyone alright?" Archer asked gruffly, looking over his shoulder at the rest of us.

I blinked. My brain resumed its function.

This had been planned.

Well, not Trainwreck's final farewell, obviously. But the prisoner exchange. The negotiation. All of it had been part of a plot. A delaying tactic to give Caster time to get into position.

"I got hit," I said, standing. I glanced at my right arm. The spider silk was unbroken, but a few spots of blood oozed between the threads. I could hardly feel it, thanks to the adrenaline. "But I'm fine. Its just a scratch."

"I'm not," Regent grouched.

My gaze shot to the renaissance themed cape. Regent had thrown himself to the ground like the rest of us mortals. For a fearful second, I searched him for wounds. Crimson painted the bandage on his guts, but I couldn't see blood pouring out from anywhere else.

That was when the pretty boy's tone hit me. Regent was being his normal dickish self.

"Archer was asking if there was anything new," I said, feeling annoyed.

"Hey!" Regent retorted, rolling into a sitting position. "I got shot in the fucking gut."

"Well, I will need to take care of that then, won't I?" Caster said pleasantly.

The brunette strode into the midst of our group, nonchalant. I took in her image. The red, tattered cloth Caster wore as a shawl was undamaged, but everything else was covered in burns and scrapes. Chalky white lines were cut across Caster's breast plate. Shredded fibers rose from the slashes drawn along her limbs. Her arms were a perforated mess of torn cloth while her creamy left thigh showed behind the holes drilled through her armor.

Caster's gaze swept the group.

"Ah, before I start, is there anyone else I should be worried about?"

"Hellhound took a serious wound to her shoulder," Saber informed. With a jerk, the blonde hauled Skidmark to his feet. "No doubt there are additional casualties amongst the participants. Overmind?"

I jerked, mentally scrambled, then grasped what she was asking.

"Give me a second."

I spread my awareness amongst my swarm. The local insect population had been heavily depleted, leaving my cloud of minions thin. Still, the horde was more than enough to hunt down every humans within the scope of my power. Once found, I took the time to examine each, separating the seriously injured from the walking wounded.

I did my best to ignore the bodies that would never move again.

"Okay, I found at least twelve that could use treatment," I answered, forming halos of fliers over their heads.

Saber nodded. "Archer and I will provide transport where needed. Hellhound, Caster, I trust you to guard our prisoners."

"That's not my fucking name," Bitch growled.

Caster grabbed the butch girl's arm. Bitch jerked.

"Stand still," Caster ordered quietly, kneeling at the girl's side. The brunette pressed a glowing hand against Bitch's damaged collar. After a long moment, Caster pulled back. "That should be enough to stop the bleeding, but try to avoid using it heavily until I get a chance to deal with it more thoroughly."

Caster stood and moved over to Regent. She paused briefly to glance toward Saber.

"With all these distractions, I'm probably not the best person to assign to over watch," she said with a sigh.

"Understood," Saber said stiffly.

Saber turned to Lung. The ABB leader remained motionless, having moved not an inch from his seated position. He met Saber's gaze fearlessly, his face twisting with distaste.

"I'm not so pitiful as to flee like a rat."

Saber's sharp green eyes turned to Bitch. The stout girl glowered, baring her teeth in response. Saber did not react and, in the end, it was Bitch who quailed.

"My dogs will eat the face of anyone stupid enough to run," Bitch relented, grumpily.

She glared at Lung and the Merchants as though daring them to say otherwise. Skidmark's face twisted angrily in response.

"You think you can order us around? We're the fucking Merchants. We don't take shit from – "

"They have already received more than their share of mercy," Saber cut in coldly. "If they put up further resistance, kill them."

Skidmark's jaw snapped shut. Bitch wore a smile of hungry satisfaction. All our minds turned to Trainwreck, the dead Tinker executed minutes before. My gut curdled, but the feeling was brushed aside by a sudden spike of anger. Skidmark was garbage. That shit bag had been stomping all over the field and was personally responsible for more than a few of the corpses my bugs found. So why the fuck were we keeping him alive?

Nausea returned. Bakuda, blown to bits. Oni-Lee, cut in half. The ABB gangbangers crushed under Saber's crystal prison. I felt sick. There had been enough killing for the day.

Lung grunted in amusement. I glowered in his direction. The ABB leader met my eye unwavering, then promptly dismissed me as beneath his notice.

Saber walked away. Archer was already in the distance, cutting through a totaled car to free the person trapped inside. I was at loose ends. There was nothing for me to do here that I couldn't do just as well elsewhere. Saber and Archer were better suited for transporting the wounded anyway, and Caster was perfectly capable of moving to the injured if it came to that. Regent was in the middle of treatment. Bitch was grumpy but fine.

That left two people on my radar.

"Mind if I head out for a bit?"

"Hmm?" Caster noised, tilting her head. "That's fine, but stick close and be careful. If you get shot by a random thug at the end of the battle, Saber and Archer will never let me hear the end of it."

I nodded in thanks and put Taming Sari firmly in my grip. I wasn't picking up any gunmen hanging around the battlefield, but it was better safe than sorry.

There were two people I wanted to talk to. Grue, who had not moved since Trainwreck died, and Tattletale, who was slowly making her way through the streets. My first instinct was to hunt down the vulpine blonde and give her a piece of my mind, but Grue was closer and looked like he needed a shoulder to lean on.

Somehow, I doubted Tattletale was the right girl for the job.

Grue was still staring at Trainwreck when I approached. His motorcycle leathers were scuffed. A shallow cut ran along his back, slicing through the light armor to draw a line of blood across Grue's chocolate skin. His helmet was cracked, the skull visor that covered the front missing a full third of its form. Trainwreck's grip must have been tight.

Other than that, Grue was in good shape. Physically at least.

Mentally?

"Fuck."

Grue's muttered curse was the the only word he offered. His gaze remained riveted to the Tinker's corpse. It was a ghastly sight. Crimson poured from the shredded mush that had once been Trainwreck's chest. The blood pooled on the concrete, spreading out in a macabre scar.

My stomach turned.

"You alright?" I asked, taking a seat next to him.

"No. Yes. I don't know. It just...," Grue shook his head, eyes never wavering from their target. "Fuck, he's dead."

Yes. Yes he was. Trainwreck was dead. Very, very dead. In fact, the only way he could get any deader would be if he had, say, been blown up by half-a-dozen bombs then frozen in time for posterity. I held back my quip. That wasn't what Grue needed, and I didn't want to spend an afternoon picnicking in front of a corpse.

"You weren't the one that killed him," I said, internally grimacing because I couldn't say the same. "And there was no telling whether he'd leave you alive."

"I know... it's just..." Grue gestured violently toward the body. "He's fucking dead."

I twitched, my irritation slipped its leash.

"I killed Bakuda," I said. "I murdered her. Set off all her bombs right in her face."

Grue finally pulled his eyes away from Trainwreck, following my gaze to the bubble of frozen time. Bakuda's shoulders and head remained in place, raised above the clouds of destruction, impossibly pristine.

I waited in silence for his judgment.

Grue's response surprised me.

"Sorry," Grue said, shaking his head. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just..." He trailed off then gave heavy sigh. "Killing someone is a big deal for capes. The unwritten rules have clear lines. I've been trying to stay within them, to keep the Undersiders' hands clean. Now?"

He gazed at Trainwreck's corpse as though it explained everything.

Oh. _That_ was what Grue was worried about. Cops and robbers. I remembered Tattletale's speech. I wasn't sure how I felt about Grue's reaction. It was nice that things weren't going to get weird because I killed Bakuda. On the other hand, him not giving a fuck that _I had murdered someone_ was more than a little concerning.

"But you didn't kill him," I said, repeating my first point. "Trainwreck's death doesn't fall on the Undersiders' heads."

And Unit 09 was already a merry band of murderers. At least I'd fit in better.

"Doesn't matter. The Undersiders were working with Unit 09 when it happened. That's all anyone will care about," Grue said, shaking his head. "This is going to fuck up the Undersiders' rep. From now on, every fight we get into, the capes on the other side will be thinking about this. They'll be wondering if the Undersiders will cross the line again. Some might think that it'd be better if they crossed it first. The unwritten rules start getting fuzzy in cases like that."

Okay. I could see that. As a cape on the street, I would definitely treat Lung and Oni-Lee differently than I would Rune, Vista, or Clockblocker. The sense of risk was different, and that changed the dynamics of the fight. It made things harsher. More likely to end up with one or more parties dead.

For Unit 09, that wasn't a problem. Unit 09 had power in spades. Archer had shot Mecha-Chuu's legs off. Saber could give Alexandria lessons on how to be tough. My team was made of monsters, and I was getting the impression that Caster might actually be the weakest of the three.

And didn't that take the cake.

The Undersiders weren't half as strong. No, they weren't even a fourth as strong. Saber or Archer could take the whole group with one hand tied. I wouldn't bet on their chances against Caster either, especially if she was willing to murder the whole lot of them.

"You going to be able to handle that?" I asked.

"Probably not," Grue said bitterly. He picked himself up and brushed the dust off his pants. "But we don't have a choice. Gotta own the rep or the rep will own you. No backing out of this. Better to take full credit than to pretend I've got nothing to do with it."

I stood. "You good then?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I am," Grue breathed. "Thanks for that, Overmind. Want to head over and meet up with the rest? I think I'm done staring at a corpse."

I shook my head. My gaze drifted over to the freckled blonde waiting a dozen meters off. "No, I've got someone else I need to talk to."

While Grue waved his goodbye, I stalked toward Tattletale. The freckled blonde stepped out of the shadows as I approached, sporting her usual broad grin.

"You told me that Caster was dead," I said forcefully.

Tattletale offered a teasing shrug. "She got better."

My eyes narrowed. Though Tattletale couldn't see that because of my mask, she must have read my anger from my posture because her smile broke.

"No really," Tattletale said seriously. "Caster flat out died. Lung shredded her heart and everything. I was in a bit of a panic until Archer looked her over. He just walked up, stuck that spear of hers into the ground next to her, then told me to tell Caster when she woke up that he was going dragon hunting. Caster was back on her feet maybe three minutes after."

"Really," I said, dubiously.

Okay. Caster had a lot of powers, I knew that. But high grade regeneration? Isn't that bullshit? Seriously, there had to be a limit to how broken Unit 09 could be. What's next, my whole team can recover from having their heart ripped out? I mean, magi aren't capes right? So they shouldn't be able to do shit like that.

"Yeah, really," Tattletale said, enthusiastically. She threw an arm over my shoulder, tilting me toward Caster, who was now treating ABB thugs and civilians. "See that hole in her costume? That's where Lung got her."

My eyes fell on the flapping hole under Caster's right armpit. Archer motioned for her from ten meters away. The brunette hopped lightly amongst the debris, to land next to her redheaded companion. Archer pointed at an older man in a business suit – the same one who had turned a hunting rifle on the others during the thick of it. Caster set a hand on his head, then jerked it back.

A furious debate ensued.

"If Caster was a couple of minutes behind, then how did you get here so quick?" I asked, puzzling the story into place.

"Faultline gave us a lift. Said she owed us that much for helping Gregor the Snail. She's still pissed about us leading Lung to her club, though."

I nodded. That made sense. Despite that, I remained more than a little angry that Tattletale told me Caster was _dead_ when she was very much _alive._ But I guess not even Tattletale was perfect.

The argument between Archer and Caster broke with Archer stomping off in pursuit of another injured civilian.

"What was that about," I said, letting the freckled blonde off the hook.

"That?"

Tattletale frowned. Her head jerked to Bakuda and the frozen bubble of time. Then it switched back again to the injured civilian.

"Well shit," she murmured. "You guys are _really_ lucky that..."

I scowled.

"Lucky about what?" I growled angrily, catching what she was implying.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't realize you...," Tattletale sighed, then broke off. "Those ABB gang members down there, they aren't ABB members at all. Bakuda recruited them at gun point, or bomb point more like. She stuck bombs in their heads. Archer noticed and brought it up with Caster."

"Wait, back up there for a sec, those were _civilians_?"

My gut twisted. I had set my insects on that mob without a second thought. How many innocents had I hurt today?

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Tattletale said. "No way you could have known. Besides, all of them owe you their life. Bakuda had a deadman's switch, but because you caught her in the middle of a time lock zone, it never had a chance to activate."

And that was supposed to make me feel better? _I had killed her_. And not just her. Her driver was just as dead, as was anyone else caught up in the middle of that mess.

I shook my head. No. Tattletale was right. Even if they were civilians, they had been carrying guns and shooting them. And, if what she said was right, killing Bakuda like I did probably was the best possible result.

Mind focused on the right place, I pressed forward, leading Tattletale back toward Grue and the others.

"What we going to do about it then?"

"The bombs?" Tattletale said, following by virtue of her arm still thrown over my shoulder. "Nothing. Archer wanted to pull them out, but Caster told him that was the Protectorate's problem. Speaking of the Protectorate, wave at Miss Militia."

Huh? I jerked as Tattletale turned forty degrees to our right. The freckled blonde gave a broad vulpine smile and waved like a maniac toward an empty building half-a-kilometer away. For a second I thought she had gone insane. Then I saw a brief glint and movement in the far shadows.

"Capes inbound!" Tattletale shouted as we joined the others.

Grue and the Undersiders jerked. Unit 09, however, didn't budge an inch. Caster looked up from her work, sealing a bullet hole in one of the ABB's recruited civilians.

"Oh, good," Caster said blithely. "Hopefully they will hurry it up. I would hate to do all their work for them."

"We going to move?" Grue asked.

"I don't see the point. Unless you think they're strong enough to make us move," Caster scoffed. Then she sighed and stood. "But I suppose we better clean up. If we stick around too long, they might feel _obligated_."

Caster made it sound as though that would be the most tedious thing in the world. Regent snickered.

"That's it, huh? You capture the Merchants and let the PRT goons do all the dirty work," Skidmark interrupted. "Don't you have any pride? You're never going to get any respect if you can't handle things in house."

"Shut up," Bitch growled. "I didn't give you shits permission to speak."

Her van sized monsters rumbled with her. Brutus stepped forward, his slavering jaws looming over Skidmark. The Merchants quailed, Mush squeezing back in an attempt to become one with the dirt. Skidmark tried to stand tall, but even he flinched when Angelica's jaws snapped shut near his ear.

"Going to use your magic eyes then?" Tattletale said, waggling her fingers as though casting a mysterious spell.

"Not yet. I want to see how our guests are planning to take care of things first," Caster said, looking out on the Protectorate's approach.

Miss Militia walked down the street, flanked by Assault and Battery. Her companions split off, stopping a full hundred meters from our spot while Miss Militia continued forward. The orchestrated motion reminded me of those ancient parlays in old films. The rest of Unit 09 gathered to meet her, Saber and Archer standing at Caster's right and left respectively.

While not quite as famous as Armsmaster, Miss Militia was amongst the best known capes in America. One of the original Wards, Miss Militia wore a costume consisting of stylized military fatigues. Her mask was an American-flag emblazoned scarf wrapped around the bottom half of her face, leaving eyes and olive skin exposed.

According to rumor, Miss Militia was supposed to be really nice. But, after all the wonderful run-ins with authority I had, I wasn't going to believe it until I saw it.

And maybe not even then.

Miss Militia's eyes flicked across the group, taking in the wounded and examining the gathered capes. I scowled when she paused extra long on Archer, Saber, and Caster to study their faces.

"Undersiders, Unit 09," she said nodding to our two groups. "And I see the Merchants and ABB are here as well."

Miss Militia's gaze lingered for a long while on the stub that was Lung's left arm.

"What's it to ya, patri-bitch?" Skidmark mouthed back. "The Merchants might be on the lowdown right now, but don't think we're out of the count. Soon as we pop bail, we'll be – Fuck!"

Brutus ended ended Skidmark's tirade though the efficient mechanism of clamping onto the cape's arm with his teeth. The Merchant leader let out a shrill cry and tried to beat the beast off with his fist. Given the thickness of the bone armor on Brutus's skull, Skidmark probably would have hurt his hand less punching steel.

"I told you to shut the fuck up," Bitch growled.

"Don't kill him," Grue warned.

"My dogs don't kill unless I tell them too," Bitch retorted. "Which, if he keeps mouthing off, I just might."

"Caster," Caster greeted, offering a hand and a polite smile. "Given the current attendance, Armsmaster's presence would be more appropriate. However, I suppose the Protectorate's second in command will have to do."

Miss Militia studied Caster's hand for a quiet moment. "I apologize, but Protectorate policy forbids me from shaking hands with unaffiliated capes," she said politely.

Caster smirked, lowering her arm. "I understand. _Politics_ , right?"

Miss Militia's eyes crinkled. "I don't think this is quite what either of us expected," Miss Militia conceded. "I regret that Armsmaster couldn't make it. Pressing business, you see."

Yeah, like the city getting blown up. I was surprised they managed to get any capes here at all. Tattletale, though, didn't agree.

"'Pressing business'" she said, finger quoting the words. Tattletale's vulpine smile grew until it resembled a shark's. "Come on, do you really think we were going to swallow that? Why don't you tell them the real reason they sent you instead of Armsmaster."

Miss Militia frowned, her expression visible by the way the lines around her eyes shifted. "I'm not sure I understand what you are implying."

"Oh, I think you do," Tattletale said viciously. She turned to our group. "What Miss Militia failed to mention is that she has an eidetic memory. And hers is extra special. It resists _powers_. So while she's over here, pretending to meet with us all nice and friendly, she's actually memorizing your faces so the PRT can draw them up later."

Grue and the other capes shifted. That information hit a nerve. Even as a younger cape who had never really internalized the unwritten rules, Tattletale's words brought a stab of fury. I couldn't say I didn't expect shit like that from the Protectorate, but to see them play fast and loose with what amounted to a truce chipped away at my concept of a hero.

Mostly, I scowled. I always knew Unit 09's refusal to wear masks would get them into trouble.

Unit 09 barely reacted at all. Tattletale's claim only summoned from Saber a grim frown. Caster's lips twisted into an evil smile. Archer hardly appeared to pay any attention at all. Instead, the redhead glared at Miss Militia's bowie knife as though trying to murder it with his eyes.

"Wow, pissing all over the unwritten rules? That's cold," Regent said, nonchalantly giving word to everyone's thoughts.

Miss Militia's hand twitched. I could tell she wanted to reach for her weapon. Her shoulders were scrunched, tense, ready for a quick withdrawal. That shift lasted a bare instant before she smoothed her poise into mere tension.

"While it is true that I have an eidetic memory and it is likewise correct that I volunteered to serve as a contact because I am the one most likely to be immune to Unit 09's Master power, the remainder of that statement is false," Miss Militia answered evenly. "I promise that I have no intention of sharing details concerning your features with either the PRT or Protectorate, though obviously I have nothing to back that statement other than my word."

"And your word will be accepted forthwith," Saber declared firmly. "I sense no deceit and find no reason to question your honor. Unless others speak who can call out lies more plainly."

The blonde haired knight tilted her head toward Tattletale, questioning.

Tattletale studied Miss Militia for a moment then pinched the bridge her nose through her mask.

"You've got to be kidding me," Tattletale murmured. "She's legit. Seriously legit. I honestly didn't think people like her existed in this world," Tattletale breathed out, disbelieving. "Though, she will still sell you out if Unit 09 goes too far over the line."

"I wouldn't expect any different," Caster interjected, with a cool flip of her hair. "This is a meeting between factions. A certain degree of friendly backstabbing is part of the game."

"That is an interesting view to take," Miss Militia commented, her posture once more relaxed.

"It's the only rational view to take," Caster retorted. "The Protectorate has its interests and we have our own. To expect either of us to not pursue our goals is the height of foolishness."

"Then would you say I am a fool for withholding your faces?" Miss Militia questioned.

"Nay, for while you are part of the Protectorate, you are not the Protectorate," Saber inserted. "To lose sight of such is the greatest foolishness of all."

Miss Militia's eyes crinkled. "Maybe so, though I think you'll find that the Protectorate shares more of my feelings than you suspect. But since we are on the subject of interests, perhaps you might clarify your own?"

"My interests?" Caster's lips quirked with amusement. "Do you mean my intentions as of right now? My intentions for Brockton Bay? Or my intentions in general?"

"All of the above would do nicely," Miss Militia said lightly.

"Well, my immediate goal is to dump this mess into your hands," Caster said, with a cruel smile. "As for Brockton Bay? I suppose you could say that I'm not fond of trash in my backyard, so I'm cleaning it up."

Miss Militia looked thoughtfully at the captured capes. "I see nothing there to disagree with. Though I might question your methods. What about your long term ambitions?"

"Confidential," Caster said immediately. She set a hand on her hips. "Professional ethics. I'm sure you understand. But since we are on the subject of ambitions, I suppose I can share one with you. Though it might sound a bit silly. You see, I want to establish a reputation for my team..." The brunette's lips quirked. "Though in this case the word legend may be more appropriate. A personal epic, like the tales told about the heroes of yore. Preferably the kind that lasts for millennia."

My brow rose. This was the first I heard of that.

"Caster, we should hurry up," Archer interrupted. "The sooner we can get the casualties to a hospital, the better. And we also need to hit the remaining Merchant strongholds before they have a chance to fort up or move the goods."

"Fucking us over when we're down. Don't-cha think you've done enou – _gahh_!"

Brutus drove his teeth into Skidmark's arm again. Caster raised a forestalling hand. Bitch whistled. Brutus relented.

"Yes, you're right. We should hurry," Caster said with a sigh. "I'm sorry to cut our meeting short, but I need to know what you plan to do with my prisoners."

Miss Militia frowned. "After what happened today, Lung will go straight to the Birdcage. He will get a remote trial, of course, but his crimes are unquestionable.

"As for the Merchants, they will see the inside of a courtroom. Mush and Squealer will likely get five to life. Skidmark will be sent to the Birdcage at worst, but only if the prosecution does a good job building their case. Unfortunately, your interaction with the crime scene will not help matters there."

"Hear that, bitch? They're going to put us in the slammer. Three strikes is the rule, and I've only got one," Skidmark said gleefully. "That means I'll be out and on the street before the end of the fucking month."

"Really?" Caster noised, playing naive.

Tattletale picked up the thread gleefully. "Yeah, really. The going rate for parahuman escapes was running at sixty-to-eighty percent last time I checked. Half of them are in and out in the first three months. Most of the rest are gone before the end of the year."

"Hmm, that does sound troublesome," Caster noised, tapping a finger to her chin.

She held out a hand. With a grunt, Archer placed a crooked dagger in her palm. Caster crouched down next to Skidmark, the blade of her weapon dangerously close to the Merchant leader's head. She smiled with a terrifying brightness.

"I see two ways to resolve this problem. First, I can amputate your power. Now, I'm not a hundred percent certain this will work, and I'm afraid to say that surgery is outside my area of expertise. However, I do love learning opportunities and promise that you won't lose more than a large fraction of your brain," Caster explained cheerfully. "The region around the Corona Pollentia to be specific. I wouldn't worry too much about it. In your case, you probably won't notice the difference."

"The other option?" Mush squeaked.

Caster smiled like an angel. "Oh. That? You promise me you will be good boys and girls and do your very best to serve your sentence in accordance to the full dictates of the law." Her bright smile fell away and her eyes turned dark. "Of course, if you break that promise there would be terrible consequences. So which of the two will it be? Hmm?"

"The second one! Definitely the second one," Mush said quickly.

"Really? How disappointing," Caster said with a heavy sigh. She stood looking down upon the other Merchants. "What about the rest of you?"

"Oh, we promise to be good," Skidmark said, cratered teeth spread in a shit eating grin. "Isn't that right, Squealer babe?"

"Yeah, we'll be good boys and girls. Boys and girls. He he he," Squealer giggled, swaying with mad distraction. She must not have come down from whatever she had been injected with.

Caster's smile turned vicious. The atmosphere pulsed. Something heavy and intangible flowed. I shivered. Skidmark's eyes bulged. He and the rest of the Merchants suddenly gripped their chests as though their hearts were about to burst.

"What the fuck?" Skidmark gasped. "You bitch, what the fuck did you do to me?"

Caster huffed in amusement.

"That?" she said, cruelly. "It's called a Geis. Think of it like a lingering curse. A leash around your neck to ensure you behave. If you break your word the Geis will activate, freezing your heart and soul. Nothing deadly, I assure you. Though, you might well wish for death after the first time you try to escape."

Silence. The air was still. Miss Militia. Grue. The Undersiders. All of us stared at Caster in horror.

I knew about Hypnosis, but this? This was terrifying. The ability to force promises, to permanently bind others to a contract. The potential for abuse was staggering. Alone, Geis would be enough to provoke careful words and unspoken fears. In combination the powers evoked visceral horror.

Had Caster placed a Geis upon me? On Grue? On the Protectorate? Were we all trapped by Caster's spell?

No. Impossible. Skidmark had noticed the effect in an instant. If _he_ could detect it, there was no chance in hell I would miss such a thing.

Unless, of course, she had erased my memory right after.

While all of us stood frozen, Lung let out a guttural laugh.

"Fool. Didn't you ever read the old stories?" Lung rumbled, drawing pleasure from the Merchant's plight. "Never make a promise to a witch."

Skidmark's expression twisted. He jolted to his feet. "You bi – "

His voice cut off in mid-sentence. Skidmark crumbled to the ground as though struck. The rest of the Merchants followed just after. Flipping her hair disdainfully, Caster turned to her final prisoner.

"Now, what am I going to do with you?"

Lung glared up at her without fear.

"You have taken my arm. You have taken my kingdom. On your first night, you stole from me my memories. You will take no more!"

Lung's operational hand rose violently to his face. Fingers and thumb pinched and, with a grotesque _splurch_ , he popped out his left eye then his right. The ABB leader slammed the torn organs into the earth where he sat, grinding them into the dirt until they were matted cakes. His empty sockets continued to glare at Caster the whole time.

"Do what you will, witch. I will not raise a finger against inevitability," Lung challenged. "But I will die before I bow to you."

Caster's nose scrunched with disgust, blue eyes focused on Lung's pulverized orbs.

"Poignant," she said with a huff, leaning in close. "But pointless. Do you really think I need your _eyes_ to take your memory? Hmm?"

Lung remained stalwart, a low rumble rising from his throat.

"Caster," Saber rebuked. "Respect his sacrifice."

Caster huffed, then stood back up.

"Very well," Caster relented, flipping her hair. She turned toward the olive skinned woman. "Miss Militia, I trust you can handle the prisoners on your own."

Miss Militia jerked, gaze rising from Lung's crushed eyes. Her expression was incredibly disturbed. Lung folded his left arm over the stub of his right in the background, content with his petty victory.

"Yes. Yes, we can. Though, I request that you allow my allies time to secure the scene," Miss Militia said firmly. No eye crinkles this time. Her voice sounded heavy. Wary. "But Caster, before we do, I think a few things need to be said. Both to you and to the rest of Unit 09."

Miss Militia nodded toward Caster then the remainder of our group. Caster raised a brow and waited, granting Miss Militia a moment to continue.

"The PRT categorizes your group as a criminal organization. Repairing the bank and returning the money earned you some credit. Turning over these prisoners will earn you more. Normally those two deeds would be enough for the PRT to overlook your prior actions and formally redesignate Unit 09 as rogue mercenaries."

Her gaze rolled over the Merchants and Lung.

"More than enough," she amended. Then she took a deep breath. "But the memory manipulation and this Geis taints things. Not so much that the PRT and Protectorate wouldn't work with you. You are not the first parahumans with disconcerting abilities, and you won't be the last. But I won't lie. Mind controlling Masters face an unfortunate bias.

"The killings, however, are another matter entirely."

The olive skinned woman's gaze shifted to Trainwreck then swept over his perforated armor and gouged out heart. From there her eyes rolled across Oni-Lee, sliced in half by Saber's sword, before halting on Bakuda and the bubble of stilled time.

"Bakuda and Oni-Lee can be forgiven," she said grimly. "After what the ABB did today, no one will question your choice in that matter. Trainwreck, however, has never been cited for a serious crime. Killing him was a step too far."

Miss Militia waited in silence, letting her words sink in.

My hands tightened into fists.

I knew the Protectorate would regard us as villains. I had prepared for it. After the battle at Brockton Bay's Central bank, I could expect no less. But to criticize us for murdering those shit bags? Did she even fucking look? There were a dozen dead civilians scattered across the battlefield and countless more were severely injured.

The Merchants were killers. Squealer and Skidmark hadn't crossed the line, they had injected nitro into Mecha-Chuu's fuel stream then shot a hundred feet over it. Trainwreck had been part of that. Hell, he had been spraying bullets through walls willy-nilly without one scrap of concern for anyone that might be living in any of the surrounding houses.

This was far beyond cops and robbers.

"Last I checked," Archer began in gruff tones, finally tearing his eyes from Miss Militia's knife. "Killing a man firing a deadly weapon qualifies as defense of self and others."

"Legally, you are correct," Miss Militia said softly. "And I won't say that you were wrong, either, so please take what follows as a warning instead of a threat."

She paused then spoke her next words carefully.

"There are norms and standards governing how parahumans behave. Escalating to fatal conflict is almost always considered unacceptable in our world, and those rules apply more stringently to a powerful team such as yours. The level of imbalance Unit 09 introduces makes people nervous. If you continue to do things like this, it won't be just the local Protectorate that responds in force."

Miss Militia's grim expression told me that she was about as happy with that prospect as I was. It was that hint of regret that took the edge from my anger.

"Then do as you like," Caster retorted.

"Excuse me?" Miss Militia said in shock.

Lung laughed, a deep chuckle rising from his chest. Miss Militia's eyes flicked toward him, her expression startled.

"You heard me," Caster replied. "Unit 09 has no intention of backing down. And I'm certainly not going to risk the lives of civilians, much less those of my allies, to fit your rules of engagement."

"Those who live by the sword, die by the sword," Saber agreed, solemnly. "When Trainwreck entered the field of war, he accepted the possibility of his death. Just as we accepted the possibility of our deaths the moment we raised our blade against him."

"You do understand that we will try to arrest you?" Miss Militia asked carefully.

" _'Try'_ being the operative word," Caster scoffed. "And so long as you are polite about it, we will continue to treat you with kid gloves. Of course, I would prefer if you stayed out of my way, but I can hardly expect you to do so while I am in the process of committing a crime. Though please do attempt to scrounge up the discretion to not waste my time when I'm doing your job for you."

Miss Militia frowned. Her eyes turned to Grue.

"And the Undersiders feel the same?"

Grue glanced toward the brunette. Caster nodded, giving him the floor.

"The Undersiders are working with Unit 09 to pay off a debt."

"It's kind of like being on parole, except less boring and more money," Regent chipped in.

"And a lot more dangerous," Grue continued. "I can't say I'm fine with everything Unit 09 does, but we aren't the type to cut and run. Come May 15th we go our separate ways. Until then, whatever they say applies to us."

Sirens sounded in the distance, their shrill cry drawing close. Flashing lights flickered at the far edge of my swarm. My horde shifted, giving me a glimpse of a PRT armored personnel carrier set in sharp contrast of black and white. An ambulance followed close behind, led by Armsmaster roaring through the side streets on his motorcycle.

"Two vehicles and Armsmaster inbound," I commented.

Miss Militia frowned. "He's not supposed to be here."

I shot a look at the olive skinned woman. An internal dispute? Did Miss Militia meet with us without permission, or was it the other way around?

Grue threw up a curtain of darkness, cutting off all sight of the nearest road. He gestured toward Bitch's dogs.

"We should go."

I pulled myself onto Angelica's back. This time I was joined by Tattletale, saving me the unpleasantries of putting up with Regent's crap. Caster remained on the ground, whistling low in Lung's direction until the Asian cape dropped to the earth in a dead sleep. No one else from Unit 09 climbed onto a dog's back. Then again, the rest of my team could run down a car on foot.

"One last thing," Miss Militia interrupted. Her eyes passed over me before stopping on Grue. "He lived. I thought you ought to know that."

As one we took off, leaving behind a broken battlefield and a shroud of darkness.

-oOo-

I groaned. Heavy eyelids opened. An unfamiliar ceiling.

I blinked in confusion. Rivers of light poured in through an open window, reflecting off white walls to fill the room with harsh illumination. Bleary eyes drifted across the interior, already half adjusted. A gorgeous dresser occupied one end of the room, while a nightstand sat beside my too large bed. Other than that, the space was desolate.

Where the hell was I?

My brain kicked in. Yeah. That's right.

The functional portions of Unit 09 and the Undersiders had spent the majority of last night hitting the Merchants. Due to their injuries, Rachel and Alec had retired early, followed by Rin and Lisa a couple of hours later. The rest of us had stuck it out, smashing drug houses until well past midnight. I had finally crashed at the manor around four in the morning, too tired to think.

Well. I was thinking now.

Pushing my pillow aside, I sat up. No clock, but the sheer brightness flowing into the room told me it was nine at the earliest. Never one to sleep in, I pulled myself out of the covers and searched in vain for my missing costume.

Great. Rin or one of the others must of taken it. Worse, my bag was still in Saber's car.

Which left me in my underclothes.

Ugh.

I contemplated the door. Like hell. I would sooner die than sneak downstairs and into the garage wearing nothing but a bra and panties. I turned toward the closet, hoping that Rin had set something aside for me. Turned out I was right. Unfortunately, it was _Rin_ who had set something aside for me.

Three dresses, five skirts, and enough ruffled blouses to fill out a dozen outfits. All of it was brand new. Deep in my foggy memory I recalled Saber saying this room was mine. Which meant Rin had bought all of this for me. Flattering, but I really wished she had bothered to consult with me first. Because there was no way in hell I was wearing half the stuff she had shoved into my closet.

Grumbling to myself, I shifted through the selection until I found a reasonably plain blouse. The skirts I put aside for now, opting instead to investigate the dresser. Score. Underclothes in the top drawer. Three pairs of jeans in the second. I wasted no time pulling on the denim pants.

Then had to stop when they were halfway up my hips.

I checked the tag. Fuck. One size too small, and they were the skinny type in the first place.

With a scowl, I looked at the closet. Then I looked at the jeans. Then I looked at the closet again.

Swallowing my pride, I dressed then headed down the stairs.

A sharp, oriental tang drew me into the dining room. Leaning around the corner, I peered into the kitchen expecting to find Shirou hard at work in his chef's hat and apron. Instead I spotted a rarer specimen, a fully awake Rin flipping seared pork in a pan. The brunette danced about the kitchen, handling four dishes while cradling a wired phone against her left ear.

" _Umm hmm_ ," she noised, adding minced chili pepper to the frying meat. "I was thinking the same myself. No. No problem at all. I have a few things that – Ah!"

Rin's eyes widened as she caught sight of me. Her smile turned smug when she took in my colorful blouse and ruffled skirt. I shied from her gaze, shoulders scrunching and cheeks heating with embarrassment.

"The jeans didn't fit," I explained. My excuse sounded pathetic even to my ears.

Rin blinked. "Really? Lisa picked them out for you."

Oh. I saw how it was. They were _supposed_ to be tight. I glowered, trying to decide which of the two girls I was more annoyed at. Before I could say anything more, Rin raised a forestalling hand and adjusted the receiver to better meet her ear.

"Yes. She's here. Just a second," Rin replied into the phone. Then she promptly held the device out to me. "For you."

Me? I looked at Rin questioningly before taking the phone. It was one of the old kinds, the type with a long curly cord that attached to the wall. Fortunately, the cord was long enough for me to step around the corner and into the dining room before talking.

"Hello?" I asked, nervously.

" _Hello to you too, kiddo."_

Oh shit. _It was my Dad._ My Dad, who was probably wondering where the hell I was and why I didn't come home last night.

"Sorry, I meant to call but – "

" _Rin let me know that you would be staying over at her place around nine o'clock,"_ my Dad interrupted. _"Though, in the future, I would appreciate it if you gave me the heads up yourself."_

I peered around the corner to glance at Rin, who beamed brightly. I gave her a smile of thanks. Rin's lips curled in delight. The brunette returned to the pots and pans, humming happily. Wait. No. I'm not thanking you for the clothes, Rin. I'm an all American girl. I don't know how things worked in Japan before Leviathan flattened it, but here in the States being female doesn't equate wearing dresses and skirts.

 _Arg!_

Stifling my frustration, I focused on my Dad. I would deal with Rin and Lisa's fashion based plot at a later date.

"I'll do that," I said firmly. "Speaking of which, I might be staying with Rin for the next few days as well," I answered, glancing toward the brunette to see if she disagreed.

Rin made no noises in contradiction.

" _Normally I would be unhappy to hear that, but with things the way they are right now, I would prefer you stay put where it's safe."_

I winced. Yeah. Safe. That wasn't going to happen any time soon. But at least I wasn't going to be running into any capes over the next few days, assuming the E88 and the Protectorate didn't try and top yesterday's clusterfuck. So there was that, right?

"I'll try to keep my head down and avoid any more of Bakuda's – "

" _Any more!_ " My Dad's voice was tense with worry. _"Taylor, you aren't hurt are you?"_

Shit. I didn't mean to say that. "I'm fine. Just close enough to get rattled, that's all."

Technically true, which made me feel a little less bad about my blatant dishonesty.

" _Are you sure?"_

"Yes, I'm sure. I'm fine, Dad," I insisted. "Rin's place is far from the action. Besides, Oni-Lee and Bakuda are _gone,_ and Lung is in custody."

There was silence on the other end, which left me plenty of time to stew over the fact that Bakuda was gone because I finished her. I remembered the Tinker's head, suspended in the air, gas mask glinting. My stomach roiled.

" _I suppose,"_ my Dad said cautiously. _"But be careful. The heroes are still pulling unexploded ordinance from buildings and infrastructure. People are scared. There are rumors that the Empire or Coil will make a move to fill the vacuum."_

Okay, it was official, my Dad was freaking out. I knew because he was paying attention to _cape_ news. Normally he didn't have the time for that crap.

"You better be careful too," I replied. "The Docks are right next to ABB territory, and I wouldn't put it past Bakuda to have stuck a bomb around there."

" _I'm the parent, worrying is my job, kiddo,"_ he dismissed.

"No, Dad, _be careful_ ," I said forcefully. I was more worried about him than myself. He wasn't the one with a trio of triumvirate class capes guarding his back.

" _I will,"_ my Dad promised. _"I hope to see you soon, kiddo. It has only been one day and I miss you already."_

"Yeah, I miss you too."

The line clicked. I ducked into the kitchen and set the receiver onto its wall mount. Slipping back into the dining room, I settled at the low table Indian style – brushing my skirt so that it properly covered my unmentionables. I spent a few minutes sipping tea before Rin came in bearing a piping hot plate. The brunette set a collection of Chinese dishes in front of me.

The smell was equal parts eye and mouth watering.

I glanced around, surprised to find no one else had gathered.

"Shirou and Saber left early to debrief the Undersiders," Rin explained as she set the table. "I expected them back ten minutes ago, but it looks like they're running a bit late."

I looked at the brunette questioningly.

"We waiting for them?"

The brunette paused, halfway into the hall instead of the kitchen.

"There's no telling when they'll show up, so there's no sense holding back," Rin answered, vanishing from sight.

Huh.

While the brunette bustled about the manor, I peered at my plate, poking at a bit of pork with my chopsticks. The meat glistened with red sauce. I had nothing but praise for Shirou's cooking and, from the way Rin handled herself in the kitchen, she was definitely an experienced chef. Summoning up my courage, I gave it a try.

I choked on the first bite.

Fire rolled over my tongue and poured down my throat in a mix of exotic flavors and tender meat. Tears flowed from my eyes. My tongue went numb. I seized my cup of tea and drained a giant gulp. My eyes returned to the meal, chopsticks trembling. This... this... what the hell was this?

Despite myself, I couldn't stop from taking another bite.

Pain and flavor consumed me. This meal was evil. Insidious. The tortures only grew greater as I ate. Yet, it remained utterly impossible to stop.

I was on my third cup of tea when Rin walked back into the dining room totting a golden sheath decorated with blue enamel. The brunette's lips quirked when she caught sight of my tear laden eyes.

"I didn't make it too spicy for you did I?" she asked, clearly amused by my plight.

I cough, my breath strangled by the heat.

"A little," I wheezed, holding my finger and thumb slightly apart. "But it's really good."

"Oh? Better than Shirou's?" Rin asked, eyes narrowed dangerously.

I froze.

I was a rabbit stilled by the cry of a hawk. My eyes shot around the room looking for an avenue of escape. There was no salvation. I did not dare speak. All my instincts were screaming in my head, telling me that, no matter what I said, answering her question was a sure route to a bad end.

Rin sighed. The sense of danger passed.

"If it's too much, I guess there's no helping it. In the future, I'll try to put in fewer peppers."

I shook my head, my mouth currently occupied by some comparatively mild green beans.

"No. It's good the way it is," I countered after swallowing. I didn't want her to ruin the dish just to make it tolerable to me. "I'll build up resistance."

Because hell if I wasn't going to find an excuse to eat Rin's cooking in the future. Maybe I should skip the run about and start living at the manor? Though, I would miss my Dad if I did.

Hmm. Food or Dad. Food or Dad. Shit. Why did being a hero come with all the hard choices?

"That's the spirit," Rin said brightly, settling down next to me. The brunette set a hand on my back. "Now hold still for a minute, I need to switch things out."

Lines flowed over the brunette's hand. Rin's prana pressed against my circuits. I stiffened, but made no move to resist. Instead, I gulped down another hunk of pork.

"Switch things out?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

"It'll be easier to show than to tell," Rin answered mysteriously. " _Getrennte._ "

An electric jolt shot through my back. Spindles of prana spread through my veins like spidery limbs. Rin's thaumaturgy gripped at my soul, peeling away infinitesimal motes. Something solidified along my spine. Rin drew her hand back, wrenching ghostly substance from my flesh.

I gasped.

Rin patted me on the shoulder twice. "And there we are."

The brunette gestured to show what she pulled out. A sheath of gold and blue, humming with evanescent light. Incidentally, it looked exactly like the one resting at Rin's side.

No. Not exactly. The second sheath was worn. There was nothing precise I could name. The colors were vivid. The enamel untouched. Yet, when placed side-by-side I could sense something lacking. A weight. An essence. An aspect of the sheath drawn from inside me had been washed away leaving it in some way _less_.

I blinked. I felt light. Dizzy. Not weaker, but somehow smaller than I had been a moment before.

"What the hell?" I murmured in a daze. "What is that? And where the hell did it come from?"

"Avalon," Rin answered brusquely, while picking up the newer sheath. "The scabbard of King Arthur. He who holds it shall know neither age nor illness, and eld of war. I put a copy inside you after our first fight with Lung."

I frowned. Rin read my expression and continued.

"You don't remember because I erased your memories shortly after. Now, don't move, I need to put in the replacement."

In other words, she hypnotized me. But I knew that already. Funny how the thought was less terrible with every passing day. Instead, I felt more frustrated that I had been dragging around a second noble phantasm and Rin had never thought to mention it.

Except, I understood why she did that as well. Shirou's power was a secret. The kind that was not to be told to anyone. I squared my shoulders. Rather than be angry at Rin for keeping this information from me, I should be proud that she regarded me highly enough to share it at all.

I was a genuine member of Unit 09.

Rin pressed the newest sheath against my spine. The scabbard dissolved into light, sinking into my flesh and spreading through my bones. It felt warm, kind, like a mother's embrace.

"And there we go," Rin said patting me on the back. The brunette moved around the table to take her plate and place. Rin helped herself to several servings. "I'll check on Avalon's condition in a week. But, assuming nothing terrible happens, you should be good for two."

"Now I have to maintain two noble phantasms," I groused. More if copies of Nanatsu-Yoru became part of my ordinary load out. "I didn't see my costume when I woke up. Did you take it?"

"Yes, it stunk," Rin answered with brutal honesty, nose wrinkled. She popped a chunk of pork into her mouth as though it weren't spicy at all. "Since it needed a cleaning, I decided to make a few upgrades while I was at it. I'll get it back to you before tonight."

"Do you have the time for that?" I asked. "Not that I'm complaining. Yesterday had a few too many close calls, and I'm not confident that my costume is bullet proof."

Rin grimaced.

"Not really, but after my encounter with Lung I felt that we might have been a bit too arrogant. Better another layer of safety," she sighed. Rin waved her chopstick at me in warning. "Mind you, there is a limit to how much I can improve your suit without creating a new one from scratch. So don't expect it to block rifle rounds. However, it _should_ shed nine-millimeter parabellums after I'm done with my improvements."

I perked up. Rin could spiff up my costume so it could handle assault weapon's fire? I was definitely game for that.

"I can make a new one," I offered, eagerly. "I used spider silk from black widows to create the original."

"Really?" Rin asked, bright blue eyes shining with avarice. "Biological materials are an excellent substrate for enchantment, as their thaumaturgic properties can be augmented by feeding the source prana during its lifecycle. Better than the ballistic fiber I used for the soft portion of my own armor, certainly. Though, I would need to test the silk's physical characteristics and see how it handles knives and impacts to be sure."

Rin leaned forward, expression hungry.

"How much silk can you produce?"

I leaned a bit back despite myself. That was not the reaction I had been expecting.

"That depends entirely on the number of spiders," I explained slowly, framing the facts in my mind. "Black widows are pretty small. About one gram each. Obviously, they can only produce a fraction of that mass in silk per a day. So, if we say about ten-percent and I had a thousand widows, I'd get a kilogram of silk every other week."

"And if you have ten-thousand, you would produce the same daily," Rin finished. The brunette settled back into her seat, nodding in understanding. "We'll need a place to put them."

…

Wow. Until just now, I hadn't realized how creepy the thought of storing ten-thousand black widows sounded. Huh. Guess sometimes you needed to be on the other side to hear things clearly.

"Yeah," I said after a slight pause. "But the bigger problem is that spiders are cannibalistic. If I stick a thousand black widows in a small room, they'll eat each other. That's not an issue if I'm there to watch, since my power will keep them under control. However, the moment I turn my back the population will quickly head toward zero."

"Yes. That would complicate things... Perhaps we could use some sort of bounded field to retain the orders?" Rin mused, mostly to herself. "If not that, maybe a surrogate familiar could control the herd?"

"Taylor," Rin suddenly added at full tone. "How do you feel about a little experimentation?"

I gave a wry smile.

"I'm fine, but Saber has lessons planned for later in the day," I said, shooting a hole in her plot. It was Monday, and the blonde knight had finally put together a syllabus. "And we'll need somewhere to safely stick the spiders first. Storing ten-thousand plus deadly arachnids in your basement strikes me as... unwise."

"Oh, that? We'll put them in the tool shed," Rin waved away dismissively. "That's where the dangerous experiments go. Since Saber will get snippy if I steal you, we'll save the experimenting for tomorrow. I have enough to do this afternoon as is. Oh, and before I forget."

Rin pulled a necklace from her pocket. A jeweled beetle pendant that hung from a long, silver chain. The stylized carapace glistened like gold in the sunlight.

"Are you okay with the design?" she asked. "If you would like something else, changing things won't be too much trouble."

I blinked. "Is that for me?"

"Of course," Rin scoffed. "There would hardly be a point in asking you if it weren't."

I stared. Was that _topaz_? No. It couldn't be. Surely it wasn't... Yeah. Who was I kidding? It was definitely topaz. I didn't know what to say. I was flattered, but Rin really shouldn't be offering _me_ a necklace worth several thousand dollars.

Chances were I would never wear it.

"Uh, it's very nice. But, you know me, I'm not one for girly things," I said, trying to let her down gently.

"Don't misunderstand, Taylor. I'm giving you this for your own protection," Rin interrupted, sternly. "Avalon only functions when exposed to Saber's prana. Obviously waiting for her to arrive isn't the best game plan. So I'm building this mystic code to serve as a stop gap, a repository capable of dispensing a limited supply of her energy on an as needed basis."

Oh... That made more sense. Finding myself once again standing on firm ground, I gave a sharp nod to indicate I understood.

"The shape doesn't really matter," I said, dismissive. "As long as it's practical, I'm good with it."

Rin's eyes narrowed. "This isn't something you'll be wearing on rare occasions, Taylor. I expect you to have this on all day, every day, so it needs to be something you are comfortable with. So tell me honestly, are you are fine with the design? Obviously I can't do anything super fancy, but I could pull off a unicorn, butterfly, or the more traditional teardrop if you'd prefer."

I raised a hand to indicate she should stop.

"The beetle is good as it is," I said firmly. "A butterfly would be a little too cute and would make me feel awkward. Anything more traditional and it would be hard to pass it off as glass, which could raise questions..."

And when it came to people asking uncomfortable questions, my Dad made the top of the list.

I paused.

"Wait. Why would _King Arthur's_ _scabbard_ need _Saber's prana_ to function?"

My eyes narrowed. Rin blinked guilelessly in response.

"You mean we didn't tell you?" she said, startled. The brunette's smile suddenly shifted into a smirk. "Saber's true name is –"

"Artoria Pendragon," Saber interjected as she stepped into the room. The tiny blonde scanned the table with hard eyes. "Taylor, your lessons will begin promptly after lunch. I will handle your questions then."

I shut my open mouth and demurred. Only a fool would get between a meal and Saber.

-oOo-

 _ **Avalon** [Canonical Phantasm]  
Projected Noble Phantasm – Rank Ex – Barrier_

 _The scabbard of King Arthur said to grant invincibility to its true wielder. Avalon is a dual function phantasm, able to be used passively and actively. Its passive function is to ward off injury and death. So long as Saber's prana is present, Avalon will not only prevent the wielder from dying, but also regenerate all wounds up to including missing limbs and organs. Avalon's healing is so complete that it can defeat all known illnesses including the general effects of entropy and aging._

 _What Avalon cannot do, is restore lost information. Because of this, destruction of the brain remains fatal. Despite that limitation, Avalon is not entirely crippled when dealing with such injuries. The sheath can repair damaged neural tissue the same way it can any other. However, the phantasm will cease to function upon determining that the loss is such that it would be better for the soul to pass on._

 _Avalon was used as the summoning catalyst in the fourth war, then embedded into Shirou as a young child by his father. The noble phantasm was only discovered after the fifth war when Rin made an effort to research the origin of Shirou's regeneration. The actual sheath, thereafter, was returned to Saber's hands._

 _Since becoming enforcers, Shirou and Rin have adopted the routine of implanting copies of Avalon on a bi-weekly basis. This, in conjunction with the trilateral bonds forged in the years prior, allows Shirou and Rin to benefit from Avalon's regeneration at a level that is a mere step less than that experienced by Saber herself._

 _It remains uncertain, as of yet, if the agelessness property has passed through the fakes. Rin collects experimental data annually to examine this possibility._


	12. Chapter 12

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 12**  
-oOo-

"Alpha, this is CC."

" _This is Alpha, copy."_

"I have a hit on 12th and Grove. Two story apartment, second floor..."

I trailed off. Tattletale spoke up, filling in the gap.

"Room number 232. Third window on the right, looking West from Grove."

"Third window on the right, looking West from Grove," I repeated into my hand-held radio. "Goods are in the closet, stuffed in the back. Watch out for the kid."

" _Copy, CC. ETA is ten minutes."_

"Roger, Alpha. Heading to point F-2. I have eyes in case of trouble. CC out."

I clipped my two-way radio to the back of my belt. Angelica shifted beneath me, alien paws scrambling against concrete at my prompting. The beast lunged into the air, crossing open night to land on a far roof. We touched down with a thud, the gut wrenching force slamming through my body. Then Angelica surged again, taking us half-a-dozen blocks in twice as many minutes.

It was Friday night, one week since we smashed the ABB and Merchants. Archer's list of bases had carried our operations through Tuesday night. A score of caches destroyed. The PRT had reported over a hundred arrests. And that was with the bulk of the Protectorate's resources focused on the Empire and ABB remnants.

By any measure, we had already achieved victory.

Unfortunately our victory was far from complete. By Archer's count there were somewhere between five and ten score _former_ Merchants still wandering the streets. Former Merchants that I, as chief minion of Unit 09, had the dubious honor of cleaning up.

Learning experience my ass.

Okay, maybe I was a bit miffed that I was stuck doing grunt work. I'd prefer to be with Archer and Saber, scoping out the E88. Or maybe downtown, sniffing around for Coil. Busting former Merchant punks that made off with Skidmark's goods? That was low level bullshit, and I knew it.

A week and a half as a "superhero" and I was spoiled to all hell. Thank god I wasn't a Ward. Give me one PR patrol and I'd be champing at the bit.

Fortunately, the Undersiders were beneath me in Unit 09's organizational chart, and that meant I got to take my bad mood out on them. Namely by having Grue and the others do the heavy lifting.

"See anything?" Tattletale breathed into my ear.

The freckled blonde's arms were wrapped around my waist, her body pressing close to mine. I did my best to bear it. Angelica might be the size of a van, but her back didn't have space for more than two. That's what I told myself anyway, because I had a sneaking suspicion that Tattletale was clinging to me so tightly to make our ride as awkward as possible.

Thank god I could dissolve my emotions into my swarm.

"I need a few minutes to check everything over," I replied coolly.

Five circuits buzzed in my back. For tonight's venture I had traded power and control for a quadrupling of range. My swarm spread over an eight block radius, allowing me to sweep a full two kilometer swath as I advanced across the city. A pretty impressive accomplishment, I supposed. Personally, I found it irritating. I was still short of the vaunted one-to-one ratio and the needless loss when extending my range annoyed me to no end.

But I was getting closer.

Probably.

"You're no fun," Tattletale complained, finally giving me an inch of breathing space.

"This is work. It's not supposed to be fun," I retorted, somewhat testily.

With my power expanded as it was, I could cover roughly four-square kilometers at a go. The problem with that was the sheer amount of information to review. For instance, there were currently two-thousand seven-hundred and thirty-eight people within the scope of my swarm. Worse, I was working with small, low quality insects along with fogged up senses. Filtering by scent _helped_ , but I still had to separate the drug addicts from the drug dealers.

Which required time and brain power.

And that left me more than a little sour.

"It's make work, and you know it," Tattletale shot back. "The Merchants are done for. Scraping up the trash isn't going to make a lick of difference."

Yeah. I knew that. Reminding me _wasn't helping_. Glowering behind my mask, I directed her toward the next target.

"Forest Street, halfway between 8th and 9th."

Tattletale lifted a pair of binoculars, finding the blinking fireflies then tracing the path down to spot the pair of gangbangers hanging in a shadowed alley.

"Leave em. They're low level goons. Probably got their goods by robbing a Merchant warehouse. No ambition. They'll sell their product and cash out before the end of the month."

"Sure about that?"

"Of course, I'm sure," Tattletale retorted.

I looked at her dubiously. Tattletale's miscall on Caster had shaken my faith in her Thinker ability. Not that it mattered in this particular case. If Tattletale was wrong, the worst outcome was that an extra dozen drug dealers escaped the purge. Sure that _sounded_ bad, but truth be told we were doomed to have a hundred new ones before the month was out.

"How's your headache holding up?"

"That? Don't worry about it. Rin found a way to take the edge off," Tattletale dismissed. Then the blonde put on a sly smile and leaned close. "Say, if I asked, do you think she'd marry me?"

My brain stopped.

Wait. What? _Marry?_ My mind flashed to the Tohsaka threesome. My face heated. She wasn't serious, was she? The mental shock threw me for a loop and suddenly I was all too aware of how Tattletale's lithe body hugged mine. Soft breasts pressed against my back. Hot breath wisped in my ear.

Tattletale snorted a laugh.

"Got you!" the freckled blonde teased. Tattletale slapped me on my back comradely. "Relax, Taylor. I don't swing that way, and even if I did I'd know better than to shove my way into the middle of that mess."

I glared back at her.

"Seriously Taylor, you're too tense," Tattletale added. She flashed her vulpine smile. "Come on. Smile for me. We're a group of teenage super villains smashing evil in the middle of the night. You don't get more absurd than that."

My lips quirked despite myself.

"I'd rather be doing something useful," I said with a sigh.

Tattletale didn't answer. I looked back then traced her gaze to the western horizon.

Brockton's Bay's skyline was a picture of the city's slow descent. Running from south to north was the path of life to death. Downtown, a shimmering sea of towering buildings and glimmering lights. Then shadow fell across the town, broken by the brief spark of hope that was Captain's Hill. From there the darkness deepened, yellowed lights giving way to pockmarks of black where infrastructure had failed entirely.

By the time my eyes reached the Trainyard, there was nothing but dead void. The completion of Brockton Bay's ruin. Despair made manifest.

But today, that north-western shadow flickered with lines of light.

"Wow, New Wave and the Empire are really going at it," Tattletale breathed.

I squinted hard, trying to make out the distant shapes. The sky flashed once with brilliant white. Then a star shot across the horizon, chased by dimmer beams of pink and blue. Dull thunder rolled over me as Purity dueled two of New Wave's capes.

"Didn't know they were active."

New Wave, or as it had once been known, the Brockton Bay Brigade. When I was growing up, New Wave had been a rising group of independent heroes. Their battle and eventual victory over Marquis and the Marche captured the nation's heart. A literal 'new wave' of superheroes. Their decision to unmask to the public was intended to bring an age of accountability. An end to the golden era of capes where the standards of parahuman conduct were torn from comic books.

Then it all turned to ash. Fleur was murdered. Lightstar left. New Wave's movement fell apart. The public abandoned their cause, and New Wave was left alone in a dying city.

These days it was rare to hear about them. Lady Photon – best known as Photon Mom – was raising her kids. Brandish had her job as a lawyer. The second generation carried the vigil. Panacea, the standard bearer of selflessness. Glory Girl, the white knight with her petty patrols. Laserdream and Shielder, fighters in the night, now more distant with the approach of college.

"They weren't. Not until recently," Tattletale replied, lowering her binoculars. "New Wave lives and dies on their donations. Guess they couldn't handle a bunch of new kids showing them up."

The freckled blonde offered me her binoculars. I took them.

"So they're waving the flag," I said with distaste.

Brockton Bay could have used New Wave eons ago, and they only show up in force now? Yeah, I was bitter and I shouldn't complain. But, their halfassed heroism made me sick. New Wave could have crushed the Merchants. Instead, their best capes sat on their collective butts while Glory Girl fluttered around doing pointless patrols.

With a grimace, I pushed my feelings aside. I could practically hear Caster berating me. New Wave didn't owe anyone anything.

"They're fighting over ABB territory?" I asked, focusing on the here and now.

I adjusted the binoculars' lenses, drawing the distant shapes into focus. The Empire's capes were hard to make out on the shadowed streets, but I managed to glimpse Cricket, Crusader, and Alabaster trading blows with Brandish, Lady Photon, and Manpower.

"Yeah," Tattletale confirmed. "The Protectorate has been hounding the ABB for the last couple of days. Kaiser is testing the waters, seeing how willing they are to pivot. Had the horrible luck to run straight into New Wave instead."

"Couldn't have happened to a better guy," I said, caustically.

Something dark drifted across my vision. I refocused the lenses. At first, I couldn't make out the silhouettes floating through the northern Docks. Then they passed over a street light. Yellowed illumination brushed the bottom of a cargo container. Borne on its back were two capes. Rune in red and black robes, dressed like a mystic. And Stormtiger, wearing little more than a white mask and loose fitting pants.

And Caster complained about _my_ lack of armor.

"Empire's got reinforcements inbound," I said.

"Thinking we should lend a hand?" Tattletale asked slyly.

She held out an open palm. I dropped her binoculars into it.

"That's Archer's call," I said, reaching for my two-way radio.

"You are, aren't you?" Tattletale teased. The freckled blonde gazed out into the night, binoculars pressed against her mask. "But those aren't reinforcements. They're hanging out and trying to draw attention because they want to talk."

I frowned, handheld radio in front of my mask. I didn't depress the lever.

"To us?"

Tattletale shot a vulpine smile. "Who else?"

"Beta this is CC. I've got eyes on two Empire capes around – "

"D-3," Tattletale supplied instantly.

"Sector D-3. Intelligence says they're calling for a parley. Orders?"

My radio hissed with static for a long minute. Then Archer's gruff voice crackled over the channel, covered with fuzz.

" _Beta here. I have eyes on target. You are free to engage."_

"CC copy," I said into my radio. I turned to the blonde at my back. "You heard the man."

"One second."

Tattletale twisted in her seat, scanning the horizon. Angelica whined and pawed the ground beneath me, eager to move. I sighed, patted the dog on the head, and let Tattletale do her thing.

"Fuck me," she breathed ten seconds later. She lowered her binoculars. "He's on the Medhall building."

I started. "You're shitting me. That's what, eight kilometers away?"

"Seven and a half," Tattletale corrected. "Why the hell did you think I was cursing? That kind of long distance sniping is pure bullshit. The PRT is going to go nuts on his Blaster rating when they realize he's a full scale artillery cape. Seriously, that shit is scarier than Purity. At least you can see her coming."

I thought about it for a second. Then my mind conjured an image of Archer in the middle of a park. Five copies of the spiral sword Caladbolg planted in the ground around him. It'd take what? All of thirty seconds to rain an artillery strike down on PRT Headquarters? How do you defend against something like that? _Can_ you defend against something like that? Archer's arrow went straight through Mecha-Chuu. I couldn't imagine it having too much difficulty with concrete or the Protectorate's forcefields.

Fuck, by the time they figured out what the hell was happening Archer could be halfway across town, in his kitchen, grilling up mackerel. Tattletale wasn't kidding. That was a hell of a lot scarier than Purity.

"You should let Grue know that we won't be available for support," Tattletale reminded.

Shit. Forgot about that. I lifted the radio to my mask. "Alpha, this is CC. We're heading toward section C-3. You fine on your own?"

" _CC, this is Alpha. Don't worry about us. We can handle a couple of goons."_ The radio hissed for a long second. _"... Bitch wants to remind you to not let Angelica get hurt."_

Yeah. I'm sure her wording was a lot less polite than that. Bitch had been pissed enough when Saber put her foot down and forced her to give me a ride well out of line of sight. To say Bitch was protective of her dogs was to say water was wet. Luckily, Angelica handled being away from her partner better than Bitch did.

"CC copy. Be careful and don't forget the kid."

I clipped the two-way radio onto the back of my belt and nudged Angelica forward.

The great beast took off like a happy pup.

Angelica's paws scrapped against asphalt. Once again we were thrown into the sky before landing on a nearby rooftop. The alien beast bounced off the surface then settled in the street below. There weren't many tall buildings where we were going.

Yellowed street lights blurred as Angelica picked up the pace. She rushed down the darkened road like a car screaming down the freeway. Scattered headlights and brake lights flicked around us, but Angelica solved the dilemma by leaping over intervening vehicles, clearing entire intersections with a single bound. The shock of her movements rolled through me in heavy jolts. I winced at the blows and clung on for dear life.

Tattletale released a joyful _whoop_.

I let out a grin of my own.

We ate three miles of road in as many minutes. Angelica huffed, tongue hanging from her alien maw as she slid to a stop in an old, deprecated parking lot. Rune's cargo container floated lazily over head, augmented by a pair of beaten car chassis and half-a-dozen chunks of assorted debris. The girl herself sat on the box's edge, feet dangling.

Striker. Rune's power granted her telekinetic control over anything she recently touched. I had reviewed a few videos of her fights over the past week. Her lifting power was impressive. The sheer number of objects she could control more so. However, her handling and acceleration left much to be desired. Dangerous, but I was confident that I could dodge anything she could throw.

I unholstered Taming Sari anyway.

Hopping off Angelica's back, I patted the beast gently on the head. "Good girl."

Angelica huffed. I scratched at an exposed bit of muscle near her ear. It was easier to see the alien monstrosity as the dog she was, knowing what I knew now.

Rune shuddered. "How can you play with that thing?"

I tilted my head toward her. Mask impassive, yellow lenses glinting in the night. Rune sounded young. According to PHO, Rune was around my age. From what I could see of her skin and build, she looked it too. I wondered if I had met her. I doubted it. I think I would notice if I'd run into Sabrina the teenage Nazi.

I shifted my gaze to Stormtiger.

"You wanted to talk."

Stormtiger dropped from the cargo container, his form suddenly slowing before he touched ground. The chains wrapping his bare arms clinked. Shaker. Aerokinetic. Stormtiger could control the currents of air around him, allowing him to sense and deflect projectiles. His special technique was to form claws of condensed wind, then release the pressurized gas after piercing a target.

As capes went, Stormtiger was both experienced and deadly. He had spent years fighting in illegal parahuman rings before becoming part of the E88. Whether those skills were sharp enough to pierce Taming Sari's guard, I had my doubts. But he was without question the greater danger.

"Hey. Bug girl. You going to ignore me?" Rune said irritably, glaring down from the cargo container.

"Quiet, pumpkin, the important people are speaking," Stormtiger interrupted. The Nazi cape studied me with obvious disdain. "I'm not talking to the help. Fetch Archer or Caster."

"I'm not _pumpkin_ ," Rune murmured above.

My eyes narrowed. I wasn't sure what was Stormtiger's problem. Maybe it was because I was a teen. Maybe it was because I was a woman. Misogyny wouldn't surprise me from a Nazi. Didn't much matter. My answer remained the same. Archer had given me permission to hold this parley, and I sure as hell wasn't waking Caster up just to talk to one of Kaiser's minions.

"Caster and Archer aren't going to talk to you," I said, with cold dismissal. "You have a message for them, you give it to me."

"Sweetie, you are thinking awfully high of yourself if you think a two-bit cape like you can run a discussion with the Empire," Stormtiger said, voice thick with scorn.

Oh. I saw what was going on here. This was a power play. The Empire wanted Caster to treat with Stormtiger to show that she was less than Kaiser. These dicks thought they could pull that kind of shit on us?

"Caster won't meet within anyone but Kaiser. You want to talk with her here, you bring him," I retorted.

Stormtiger's lips curled.

"Oh, leave it," Rune chimed in, kicking her legs. "Kaiser is calling a meeting on neutral ground tomorrow at six-o'clock. Somer's Rock."

My gaze flipped to Rune. The girl's smug smile offset Stormtiger's scowl perfectly.

"What's it about?"

"You." Rune and Tattletale answered simultaneously.

Rune shot Tattletale a nasty look. Tattletale returned one of her patented, vulpine smiles.

"I'll inform Caster, but I don't decide what she'll do."

"She better be there," Stormtiger said forcefully. "Kaiser won't tolerate an insult."

"If you think Caster gives a shit, you're delusional," I retorted.

Stormtiger jerked forward and growled. I didn't budge an inch. After a second the Empire cape huffed and turned his back to me. He jumped. An explosive pulse of air lifted Stormtiger five meters into the sky to land on Rune's cargo container with a heavy _clang_.

"Take us away, pumpkin."

The cargo container turned sluggishly and floated off into the night.

"I'm not _pumpkin._ "

-oOo-

"The building is warded," I said, stepping out of the black sedan.

It was Saturday, April 23rd and a quarter till six in the evening. We were parked one block from Somer's Rock. Though we didn't have line of sight, I could sense the pub through my swarm. More precisely, I could pick up the sphere of static extending twenty meters in radius from the restaurant's center. It wasn't like the bounded field setup around Unit 09's mansion, which nullified my power with intense void. Instead, erratic noise eroded my connection until I lost all awareness of the bugs within.

"Interesting. I didn't know parahumans had that capability," Caster mused.

A trio of lizard dogs pattered to a stop around us. The Undersiders dismounted, Grue dropping down next to me.

"What is it?" he asked, reading our expressions.

"Bounded field around the pub," I explained.

Grue looked at Tattletale.

"Blocks Overmind's power, right?" Tattletale asked. "Then it's probably an anti-master field. The Empire doesn't have a cape with a power like that, so they must have reached out to find one that does."

"Who did they call? Villains 'R Us?" I asked with quirked humor.

"Essentially, yeah," Tattletale replied. "They've got PHO boards for stuff like this, with secret handshakes and everything. Admittedly, organizing a support cape for a truce location is a hell of a lot easier than grabbing one for a job. PRT wouldn't touch this shit with a ten foot pole."

I nodded. Made sense. The sanctity of a truce was the one unwritten rule nobody was eager to violate. Hell, it was the lone rule I couldn't see Unit 09 breaking, since doing so would make future cooperation impossible.

Our combined group rounded the corner and came into view of the pub.

Somer's Rock was set in a strip line of ancient boutiques. More than half the windows were dark. Paint peeled from the buildings, the letters on the signs weathered away by age. I doubted that half of them were even open, and many of the shops looked as though they had gone bankrupt nearly a decade prior.

The restaurant itself didn't look much better. Somer's Rock's windows were shielded by iron bars then shadowed by dark curtains. The neon sign reading _Open_ was unlit, perhaps because the light had gone out years ago or maybe because only capes were welcome.

The small parking lot out front was empty. Either we were first, or everyone else had put their cars elsewhere to avoid photos of the gathered license plates.

Caster and Archer stopped one foot short of the bounded field.

"Not very subtle," Caster commented. She reached forward and ran a finger along invisible air as though she were testing for dust.

"Should be easy enough to take down," Archer replied calmly.

"Better to prepare for the worst," Caster stated.

No sooner did the brunette speak than did Archer summon a crooked dagger and hand it to her. Caster considered the iridescent blade for a moment, then offered it to Tattletale.

"For me?" Tattletale's smile threatened to split her face in half.

The freckled blond grabbed the dagger's hilt eagerly. It looked fragile and impractical. A single glance was enough to tell that the knife was intended for ritual rather than use. I recognized the weapon. I had seen it a week ago when Caster had threatened to use it to carve out a hunk of Skidmark's brain, powers included.

"I trust you can find the proper place to thrust." Caster's blue eyes were stern.

"Oh, you can count on that," Tattletale replied, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Grue and I watched curiously while Tattletale found a spot for the tool on her belt. Grue spoke first.

"What's it do?"

"Cancels parahuman powers, amongst other fun things," Tattletale explained. Her eyes gleamed. "Fun, _fun_ , things."

"Use it responsibly," Archer warned in grim tones. "Or I'll never lend you another."

Tattletale nodded firmly, her smile falling off for a more serious expression.

Forewarned and forearmed, we stepped through the door. Saber, I noticed, gave Tattletale a wide berth.

The interior of the pub was dim and dingy. The pale illumination cast by the burnt bulbs was quickly absorbed by dark floor and darker woodwork. The deep green curtains and tablecloths did little to help matters, soaking up what light was left. A lone ceiling fan wobbled over a central table, chairs gathered around.

Two capes were seated at that central space. A man. Tall and thin, almost skeletal. He wore a black, skintight outfit that covered him head to toe, including his face. The bodysuit was featureless, except for the pale snake that wound around his costume starting from his forehead and ending at an ankle. Coil. I identified him from his PHO picture, though it had taken some doing to find an image clear enough to recognize.

The woman across from Coil was better known. Faultline. Striker, able to cut through non-living material at a touch. Her power was something of a joke. Her team was anything but. Faultline's crew were professionals, skilled mercenaries with a solid reputation of getting the job done.

Faultline scowled at Caster. Caster returned an angelic smile. My eyes were drawn to the pretty, blonde haired woman in a far booth.

"Citrine," Tattletale informed. "One of Accord's Ambassadors from Boston. Mid-level Shaker/Trump. She can alter the laws of physics within a set area. Reduce inertia, increase gravity, accelerate heat conduction, that kind of thing."

"And nullify Master powers, apparently," I filled in, catching her drift.

"Exactly."

I took a moment to memorize Citrine's appearance. Perfect hair. Designer dress. High heeled shoes. Her costume was utterly impractical. Citrine appeared closer to a lady out on a date than a cape ready for battle.

The door opened.

A woman stepped into the room, flanked by goons in green and red. All three of them were Asian. The surrounding thugs were armed with rifles, their faces obscured by flimsy masks. The woman, the leader by her positioning, was not much of a woman at all. She was young. Maybe seventeen. Her costume was a hastily assembled mishmash of stylized stockings, skirt, and Kevlar body armor. The girl glanced around the room, face obscured by what looked to be a poorly modified copy of Oni-Lee's old mask. I couldn't see her expression, but it was clear that she was nervous as hell and trying to hide it.

Badly.

The ABB's new face elicited scowls from all the parahumans in the room.

"Hey, hey," a boyish voice said. The speaker was orange skinned and not much older than me. Newter. "Are those three even capes?"

"The costume party is three streets down!" Regent added with a cruel toned quip.

Regent's joke summoned raucous laughter. The new girl's leering mask shot toward him with an etched in scowl. I scowled as well, but for a completely different reason.

"It's been one fucking week," I hissed under my breath. "Where the hell did they pull her from?"

"And that's how the Protectorate feels every time they kill half the Slaughter House Nine," Tattletale whispered back.

"I have a right to be here," the girl declared. She scanned the crowd, demon-masked visage leering into booths at the back where most of the capes sat. "I am Machina, head of the ABB, one of the strongest gangs in Brockton Bay."

The crowd laughed. It was Grue who stepped forward, waving down the sounds of the others.

"Machina, was it? I don't want to be rude, but we have rules about who can be here, and some of us find your claims to be a bit of a stretch."

Grue's masked helmet swept the group, gaining nods of agreement. His gaze stopped meaningfully on Regent, wisps of dark mist rising from the eye sockets. The coroneted cape offered an unapologetic shrug.

Grue's mask snapped back to Machina.

"If you want to stay, you're going to have to prove you're the real thing."

Machina stared at Grue, then scanned the rest to evaluate their conclusions. A dozen capes looked back, unmoved. I stood, arms folded, watching. I didn't have a stake in this. But, like everyone else, I wanted to see if the ABB's new cape was real or if they were trying to pull wool over our eyes.

Finally, Machina turned. For an instant I thought she was going for the door. Instead, the girl grabbed a chair from the main table, tossed it into the air, then promptly ripped it in half with her bare hands.

"Convincing enough?" Machina challenged.

"Good enough for me," Grue said with a slight shrug.

"You can stay, but your minions are gone," Faultline declared from the main table. "And next time, don't make a mess."

Machina nodded, then whispered to her two thugs. From their reactions, it seemed that the exchange was getting a bit heated.

"She could have faked that," I whispered to Tattletale.

The freckled blonde gave a sly smile back. "She didn't. Not in the way you're thinking."

Machina's thugs suddenly turned and stomped off. Machina pulled back a chair and took a seat at the main table. The door had barely closed when the night's main participant stepped in through.

Kaiser entered the room with a playmate in each arm. Fenja and Menja, twin Breakers wearing Valkyrie themed armor. Heavy hitters both. The two of them shared the same power, the ability to grow multiple stories tall while gaining proportional strength and toughness. Kaiser himself was clad in steel armor and crowned by a circlet of blades.

A large fraction of the Empire Eighty Eight trailed in behind him. Purity, glowing as bright as a magnesium flare, flanked by Night and Fog. Hookwolf, his hairy chest completely bare with his E88 tattoo visible for anyone to see.

Huh. That was the fourth shirtless cape I had seen. Lung, Stormtiger, Newter, and now Hookwolf. I guess it made a bit of sense for the Changers, but I had a hard time wrapping my head around why Newter and Stormtiger would fight without armor.

"No slouching," Caster said, slapping me hard on the back.

I grumbled and straightened up.

"No really, Caster means it," Tattletale whispered into my ear. "In meetings like this, image is everything. Your team just smashed the combined force of ABB and Merchants. You're kings. You gotta act like it."

I took in Kaiser, tall and forceful. He pulled back a chair at the far end of the table almost indolently then claimed the seat as though it were a throne. Fenja and Menja took a place just behind him, dolls on display as much as implied threats. Hookwolf lounged against the bar in the back, looking like a hungry beast as he glared across the room.

I adjusted my shoulders and pulled myself up, emulating fragments of the postures I saw. I was strong, dangerous, and deadly. I had murdered Bakuda a bare week before. Like Grue said, I should own that reputation. These people should be scared of me, not the other way around.

There was a nervous quiet as Caster finally strode toward the main table. Saber and Archer followed just behind, mirrored echoes of the presence cast by Kaiser. I moved to join them, but Tattletale subtly steered me to the side instead so that I anchored the center of the Undersiders while the rest formed a wide flank behind Unit 09.

 _Screeee_.

With a foot, Caster casually shifted a chair to the empty slot left by Machina's act of destruction.

"Archer," the brunette commanded with a hint of haughtiness.

Archer's lips twisted with a touch of amusement. The redhead made a suave motion as though offering a seat then promptly created an actual fucking throne out of thin air. Kaiser's poker face twitched. With a smug smile, Caster took her spot like a prim princess.

Kings. Now that I was looking for it, I could see it. The silence gripping the room was thick enough to cut. The atmosphere held a palpable terror. In less than two weeks, Unit 09 had turned Brockton Bay's cape scene upside down. We had destroyed Lung twice, crushed the Protectorate, then polished it all off by obliterating the Merchants and the core of the ABB.

And nobody in this room could forget it. Worse, we were an unknown. PHO had transformed into a bastion of rumors with wild guesses about our powers, more wrong than right. Of those here, only Faultline's crew had seen any of us injured. As far as the rest of them knew, we had done it all without a scratch.

We were an invincible force and the unknowable other pressed into a single package. The bit players – Machina, Faultline, and Coil – knew we couldn't be opposed. But what did Kaiser think? He had to be questioning how the Empire would fare. Were his capes strong enough? Which rumors about our power were embellished or understated? What were our goals? Who hired us?

Doubts. Doubts that begot a field of fear.

"If nobody minds, I'll take a seat," Grue announced into the silence.

He stepped forward, motorcycle leathers creaking, and set his hand on the back of a chair. The Empire shifted. Kaiser's placid expression gave a hint of displeasure.

"Ah, the Undersiders." Kaiser's voice was strong, commanding, harsh. It filled the room with a veneer politeness that dripped with scorn. "Petty thieves and failed robbers. Beyond getting bailed out by your patrons, what exactly have you accomplished?"

"You mean besides the Ruby Dreams Casino heist?" Grue replied coolly. "We assisted Unit 09 in the takedown of Lung and the Merchants, up to and including the execution of Trainwreck, Oni-Lee, and Bakuda."

The room stirred. Own the rep. Just like that, Grue had done it. Before he spoke, there had been doubts. Questions on how deep the Undersiders' involvement ran. Now though? All eyes were suddenly riveted to Grue and the rest of his team. Wariness had given way to tension and fear.

Which was funny, because the Undersiders had almost to nothing to do with those deaths.

Unlike me.

" _I_ don't have a problem," Caster said pleasantly. "Unless anyone objects?"

Caster's angelic smile was a beautiful threat if ever I saw one. Kaiser glared at the brunette, his face a frigid mask with a hint of a sneer. Somehow I didn't think he was happy about how this meeting was going.

"Coil will approve to keep things moving and to pressure Kaiser," Tattletale whispered into my ear.

Not a second later.

"I have no issue if the Undersiders take a chair," Coil declared.

Grue looked to Faultline. She nodded. He pulled back his seat.

"I'll be taking one as well."

My eyes shot up. The woman who spoke was the last person I expected. Purity strode forward, her magnesium light dimming until I could get the vaguest glimpse of her features. Mousy. Dark haired. I could tell from the shadows cast by the cooling illumination. I was surprised. I had thought Purity a classic Nordic blonde.

This time Kaiser actually scowled.

"Wow," Tattletale breathed. "I knew Purity, Fog, Night, and Crusader had split off from the rest of the E88 to form their own group. But making it obvious here? That's practically a declaration that her affiliation with the Empire is identical to the Undersiders' and Unit 09."

Purity claimed the chair beside Kaiser without waiting for anyone's say so.

"Are we done?" Kaiser said, voice tinged with irritation.

"Actually, I think I might claim a place at the table myself," another voice interrupted.

A man stepped from the restaurant's darkened back. Black costume. Red mask. Top hat. He gave us an elegant bow.

"Trickster, of the Travelers. I know this is irregular, but if I feel that if indulge here I might better avoid entanglements with the local politics later."

Tattletale snorted. "More like, he wants to sit in because he's planning to get entangled with the local politics."

I raised a brow and whispered back. "Anyone important?"

"The Travelers have five, maybe six members. Genesis, Ballistic, and Sundancer are heavy hitters. Trickster is support. Swaps people and objects in line of sight. Forced teleport. Very fast."

"Nasty," I murmured.

"Yeah. Not an easy ability to deal with and only serves to make the rest of his team that much worse. The Travelers have a long record of running through different cities and fighting capes. Lots of experience."

"Dangerous?"

"Not so much as Unit 09," Tattletale quipped. "But who is?"

"We all know why we're here."

My attention returned to the main table. It was Coil who spoke. His cadence was smooth, cultured. Where Kaiser's tone left the impression that he looked down on everyone, Coil's timber was more neutral.

"Unit 09. Two weeks ago they were a complete unknown. Now the ABB and Merchants lay in ruin, their territory forfeit. A vacuum has been left in the heart of Brockton Bay's underworld, and the Protectorate is on the hunt. All of us have questions – "

"Questions... we certainly have those."

Kaiser's strong voice cut Coil off. The blonde man stood, projecting his words into the crowd.

"We have heard the stories. Unit 09 defeated the Protectorate. Unit 09 took down Lung. Unit 09 captured the ABB." Kaiser's lips quirked. "Unit 09 heals the wounded, robs banks, and protects the poor. Oh, and my personal favorite, Unit 09 is a Protectorate plant hired to wipe out the local gangs.

"Rumors and hearsay," Kaiser scoffed. "The only thing we know for truth is that three capes are dead. Murdered by Unit 09's own admission. A direct affront on the rules of our society."

"We are not here to declare a war," Coil interrupted, evenly. "These meetings exist to settle differences and resolve disputes, not to start them."

There was a general murmur of assent.

"Declare war? Have they not done so already?" Kaiser accused, voice raised in broad appeal. His gaze swept across the far reaches of the room. "Two gangs destroyed. Three capes dead. How many next week? How many the week after that? Unit 09 kills without compunction, fights without masks, and here – on the grounds of truce – their leader places herself upon a throne. What is there to say to a group of parahumans that has rejected every rule by which we live?"

Another rumble answered, this time rising mostly from the E88.

"He's working the room," Tattletale whispered in explanation. "Kaiser wants to form a united front against us. Barring that, his goal is to erode potential alliances."

"Think it'll work?"

"Maybe," Tattletale said with a shrug. "Depends on how Caster runs with it."

I snorted. "Knowing her, she'll pour gasoline on the fire."

"If I may interrupt," Trickster said. "Before throwing accusations, perhaps we should ask the lady for her view on things?"

Caster smiled flawlessly.

"Oh, that's quite simple. Since no one saw fit to take the role of Second Owner, I appointed myself."

There was a loud murmur in the room originating from all corners. I leaned next to Tattletale.

"Second Owner?"

"Magus stuff," Tattletale supplied.

"And there you have it," Kaiser spoke, his seething tone echoing through the restaurant. "Two weeks in Brockton Bay and she has already granted herself the position of Queen. Will we bow to this tyranny? Will we stand divided while outsider capes walk into our town and dictate our way of life?"

Kaiser's voice rang, and for the first time I could see him truly hold the room's attention. For a moment I thought that Kaiser might actually be able to unite the villain groups behind the Empire Eighty Eight.

Then Faultline snorted.

"Perhaps you'd enjoy picking a fight with Unit 09, but I was there when Caster fought Lung, and I want no part of it," she said scathingly.

"Fucking cowards!"

Hookwolf sprang from his spot at Somer's Rock's bar. The large man stalked forward, his face a mask of anger. Behind Faultline, her crew shifted. Gregor and Newter stepping closer to exude a counter presence to the E88 cape.

Coil raised a hand, calling gentle attention. His urbane voice filled the room.

"We are here to discuss," Coil reminded. His head turned toward Caster. The blank stocking covering his face was eerie, hiding all human expression. "I am not familiar with the term 'Second Owner'. Perhaps you would care to explain?"

I perked.

"Of course," Caster said smoothly, seemingly unperturbed by the rage directed against her. The brunette put on an angelic smile and adopted her standard lecture pose.

… which, come to think of it, was incredibly condescending given who she was talking to...

"A Second Owner is the authority behind the authority. Whereas the PRT and Protectorate concern themselves with the administration of laws of the visible world, the Second Owner takes responsibility for the administration of the shadow world.

"Now, personally, I couldn't care less about your thefts, drugs, or even the occasional murder. I have neither the time nor the inclination to involve myself in your petty affairs," Caster said sweetly. "Where my concern begins and ends is ensuring that the local parahuman activities remain such that the residents of Brockton Bay can, at times, conveniently forget we exist."

Caster shifted, eyes suddenly growing dark. "That being said, I have a number of rules that I intend to impose, and on these I will brook no argument. Human trafficking is forbidden, as is forced prostitution, addiction, or any other form of mass human misery."

"And no more dogfighting!" Bitch suddenly growled.

The butch girl leaned forward, angry visage threatening the table. Grue shot her a warning look while the rest of the capes turned dark eyes on Bitch's interruption. Caster, however, smiled as though she had just heard something particularly delightful.

"Ah yes. How could I forget?" Caster said, voice tinged with amusement. "Abusing animals is absolutely forbidden."

Hookwolf jolted forward with frothing anger, slamming his hands down on the Empire's side of the table.

"You bitch. You threw that in just to get to me. You want a fight? You want to throw down? Then let's do it."

"We are under truce," Kaiser reminded, his voice icy cold. His lips quirked. "A certain degree of respect is expected, even for those who refuse to offer any."

Kaiser paused a moment, gesturing for Hookwolf to retreat. A few light laughs escape the Empire's portion of the crowd at Kaiser's quip. The blond man leaned forward. I could feel the crowd tilt with his charisma.

"You have given your _dictate_ , Caster. Now tell me, how do you plan to enforce it?"

"I thought I might start by asking nicely," Caster answered with a guileless smile. "But if that is not sufficient, I suppose I could ask not so nicely."

"And then, when we refuse, will you start murdering us as you did the Merchants?" Kaiser said, voice dripping with disdain.

"Hardly," Caster dismissed, flipping her hair. "That was me asking not so nicely. No. If I have to ask a third time, we'll do things Saber's way."

Caster gestured. Saber stepped forward.

If Kaiser's presence was magnetic, Saber had the gravitational force of the sun. By moving but half a pace, she took ownership of the entire room.

"There is only one proper way to deal with bandits," Saber decalred, her clear tones resonating deep into the darkest corners of the restaurant. "You will be offered one chance to surrender. Those that refuse will be put to the sword, their heads set on pikes as a reminder to any who would repeat your error."

The whole room froze.

It wasn't just what Saber said. It was the way she said it. Pure confidence. A perfect pronouncement that carried within it a certainty that rivaled the turning of the earth. A chill swept down my spine. And no one could doubt it. Not after Kaiser's repeated accusations of murder.

It was Regent who broke the silence with a cruel chuckle.

"Wow. Saber's seriously going to go medieval on your ass."

… he had _no idea_.

Kaiser stood.

"Do you think we will bow with fear? For three decades the capes of Brockton Bay have stood against adversity." Kaiser's gaze swept the room, his voice captivating the audience. "We have endured the Teeth, repelled the Slaughter House Nine, and survived the end of the Marche. Through it all we have thrived. We have stood by our principles, even when it meant avenging our enemy Fleur whose life was cruelly cut short by those who scoffed at the unwritten rules."

The blond man let the words linger, allowing everyone to draw a connection to Unit 09.

"And now, some outsider cape comes before us and demands we kneel. Will we kneel before her? Will we prostrate before the Queen like sniveling rats, waiting for the day that she cries: 'Off with their heads'?

"I say no!" Kaiser's fist pounded the table, his voice thunderous. "The Empire will not cower before a tyrant. We will not lower our heads to a cape who shows naught but contempt for the precepts of our culture. We will drive out this invader. We will cast this alien presence from our shores. I ask of you, who here will do the same?"

Kaiser's final cry echoed in the room. The crowd stood at the precipice, the moment of decision. The next second would clarify whether Unit 09's next battle would be with the Empire Eighty Eighty or a united front formed from all of Brockton Bay's villainous capes.

Then Coil's urbane voice cut in. He was calm, hands folded as though this was nothing more than an ordinary Saturday meet.

"I see nothing in Unit 09's terms that are disagreeable. In fact, I find the concept of an enforcer of the unwritten rules – different than ours that they might be – intriguing."

And, just like that, Kaiser's effort to unite the Bay shriveled up and died.

"If you want to throw away your lives in a fight against Unit 09, you can do it alone," Faultline added, twisting the knife. "My crew prefers to do business outside the Bay. Caster's rules don't affect me one way or the other."

Kaiser's face was a mask of fury.

"So be it, but know that the Empire will not forget this cowardice," Kaiser spat. He slapped a piece of paper onto the table. "Caster, for now I will respect your claims only so far as these lines mark your territory. Enforce your rules beyond them and there will be war."

I peered down at the unfolded paper. A map of Brockton Bay. Lines were drawn along the streets, dividing the space into groups. Territory. Specifically the space the Empire Eighty Eight was claiming as its own. Coil, Machina, and Grue leaned forward to give it a gander. Faultline and Caster didn't even bother.

After a moment's examination, Machina stood with sudden fury. "That's ABB territory you're divvying up!"

"Am I to be lectured by a girl playing dress up?" Kaiser asked. He smirked at the crowd, arms wide inviting their intervention. Mocking laughter echoed his derision. Kaiser turned back to the girl with a cold sneer. "The ABB is gone, and everyone here knows it. But if you want to fight the rest of this room to prove your point, be my guest."

Kaiser's expression went dark and he faced the crowd. "I have said what needs to be said. Should anyone here discover their courage, you know how to contact me."

With a whirl and a glint of steel, Kaiser marched out. The Empire Eighty Eighty flowed through the door at his heels. Hookwolf followed, shoulder's scrunched like a prowling beast. He shot a nasty glower at Bitch, who returned it in kind.

Of the Empire, only Purity and her supporters remained. Fog, Night, Alabaster, and Crusader. In totality the group made up a full third of Kaiser's capes.

Purity stood for a moment, meeting Caster's eye.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot agree to your terms," she announced. "I have already seen what one tyrant can do. I will not allow another."

With that, Purity walked out the door, dragging her faction behind her.

I raised a brow, my head shifting toward Tattletale.

"She's talking about Kaiser," the freckled blonde whispered, catching the unspoken question. "They have a fair bit of bad blood between them."

"Funny," I said dryly, my tone not carrying a hint of sympathy. "If she thinks he's a tyrant, then why is she still backing him?"

Coil raised his hand, calling the attention of the room. "That was our major piece of business for tonight. Anything else before we go our separate ways?"

"The ABB has a private matter they would like to discuss with Unit 09," Machina said, looking at Caster.

"As do I," Faultline added, clearly displeased that Machina spoke first.

Coil nodded, the expressionless cloth stretched over his face no less disconcerting than before.

"Then let the rest of us recuse ourselves," Coil said politely, pushing back his chair to stand. "I hope that when we next call upon this conference it is under more amiable terms."

"I'll meet you outside the door," Faultline said gruffly. She stood and gestured for her team to follow.

Capes drained from the room. First Coil and Faultline, then the Travelers. As the space cleared, Regent flounced over to the main table and snagged himself a seat. Sensing the atmosphere shift, I stepped forward myself and leaned against the back of a chair near Saber's side.

Machina sat quietly while the others left, shoulders scrunched, wringing her hands with nervousness. The last cape to go was Citrine. The elegantly dressed woman, rose from her stool with ladylike grace only to glide across the floor and pause at Caster's side.

"If you would pardon me," Citrine said politely. "The Empire requested that I attend this meeting to provide anti-master measures. I would understand if you would wish me to depart. However, should one or more parties prefer, I can continue to render my services."

All eyes turned to Machina. The girl's demon mask shifted uncomfortably between all of us. The Oni visage didn't suit her.

"You're pretty screwed as it is," Tattletale said, conversationally. "But if you want the Ambassadors to know your darkest secrets..."

Machina's head jerked toward Citrine. "Get out."

Citrine nodded then turned, her dress whirling with her motion. Before she could go, Archer bowed in her direction.

"Thank you for your service."

Citrine returned a pleasant smile and a slight curtsy before sliding out the door, her high heels clicking on Somer's Rock's wooden floor. My eyes trailed after her as she exited, my lips curled in disgust at the sheer impracticality of her dress.

And no, that _wasn't_ because I was jealous of how good she looked.

Really.

The room remained in uneasy silence until Citrine's anti-master field vanished.

"So, you want me to start? Or would you rather do it yourself," Tattletale asked cheekily.

Machina's mask turned toward the girl. The demon's leer served as an able substitute for what I presumed to be a harsh glare. Then her eyes returned to Caster. The girl shrank under the brunette's steady gaze. For an instant I thought she might not summon up the courage to talk at all.

"I...," Machina cut herself off then continued, her words picking up strength as she went. "The ABB requests a formal alliance with Unit 09."

"Oh?" Caster noised. The brunette gave a pause of polite consideration. When she spoke, Caster's words were pleasant and impersonal. "Unit 09 isn't looking for such a relationship at this time. Our interests lie in maintaining a peaceful state in the city."

"You allied with the Undersiders," Machina shot back hotly.

"The Undersiders are working under Unit 09 to pay off an obligation," Grue cut in, smoothly. "It isn't exactly voluntary."

"We do get protection from the gangs," Tattletale reminded.

Grue gave her a look. The freckled blonde leaned against the back of a chair, wearing a smug smile. Caster remained unmoved.

"That," Machina practically growled, her masked face switching amongst participants. "I want that."

"Those benefits are not something we grant for free," Caster said coolly. Her eyes sharp, a predatory smile spreading on her lips. "What are you offering?"

And now we entered dangerous territory. Caster's earlier dismissal hid an underlying hunger. Machina might not realize it, but she had something we wanted. The ABB under our thumb, playing by our rules. The original plan had been to break the bigger gangs and bring them to heel, but Lung and Bakuda had ruined that plot when they launched an all out assault culminating in the death and capture of the gang's leadership.

Brockton Bay was now a vacuum, and somebody had to fill it. If that somebody was a friend of Unit 09, that would be useful indeed.

Not that I was fond of the notion, and I had doubts as to whether Machina could deliver. But Archer had broken me to the idea that a criminal niche will always be filled. Thus the best solution was to ensure that they were a tolerable sort.

The question was, did Machina know the value of the cards she held?

"Territory. A cut of the ABB profits. Whatever you want."

I winced. Grue practically face palmed. Even Caster looked like she was in physical pain.

"You really are new to this, aren't you," Tattletale said with a sigh. The freckled blonde pull out a chair and slipped in. "Okay, give me a second to see if I got this right. You're new. As in triggered in the last month new. Probably when Bakuda was planting bombs in people's heads."

"Yeah. So?" Machina growled. Machina glanced around. From her posture, I was pretty sure she realized that she'd fucked up.

"You've been shanghaied," Tattletale said bluntly. "Worse, everyone knows it. Kaiser thinks you're a joke, and Faultline wouldn't give you the time of day. The only thing you have going for you is that, while everyone was laughing behind their masks, they missed that you were lying about your powers. You aren't a Brute. You're a Tinker with a specialization in human augmentation. Cybernetics."

Machina shot from her seat. "That's a lie!"

I gave her a dubious look. I wasn't the only one showing my doubts.

"Whether it is or not changes nothing," Caster interjected. Her tone was oddly consoling. "If you can't control the ABB then you have very little to offer."

Machina shrank back into her chair. I could practically see her wilt.

I took pity on her.

"If the ABB grabbed you at gun point, then why the hell are you helping?"

Machina's leering demon mask shot to me.

"You wouldn't understand," she spat. The spite in her tone was undermined by a fragility.

"Obviously, I don't," I said coolly. I didn't want to get dragged into her drama, but I felt this needed to be said. "You haven't done anything yet. The Wards would take you. Hell, Grue would probably take you. Why help a gang that has fucked you over?"

"Because, without Lung, the Asian bloc is up shit creek without a paddle," Tattletale supplied. "For people like Machina, the ABB has always been a double edged sword. Sure the ABB fucks them over, but they also keep the peace."

My gaze turned to Machina, questioningly. Her shoulders scrunched. After a moment, the girl took a shaky breath then started in a quiet tone.

"Nobody hates the ABB more than we do. They take what they want to take. They force us pay 'protection'. They think that, just because we are the same race, that we owe them. And if you try to refuse, they'll make you pay with flesh instead of money," Machina's voice shook with bitterness. "But you don't understand what it's like. The hate. And I'm not just talking about Kaiser's racist assholes. Its everyone, on every street corner, in every school. Everyone in this fucking city despises us, treats us like we're a bomb waiting to go off."

Mr. Gladly had talked about this in class. Kyushuu's fall had brought a tidal wave of refugees. It wasn't as bad here as it was on the West Coast, but for a decade Japanese immigrants had been public enemy number one. Hate groups had raged against them. The rash of poverty followed by the formation of criminal gangs had only served to stoke those fears. Fears made all the more stark with the current tensions against the CUI.

Hearing it in person, though, was another thing entirely.

The girl sniffled. Tilting up her mask, Machina drew a forearm across eye level. Shit, was she crying?

"The police won't help. And when they actually bother to show, they are more likely to blame us than solve the fucking problem. All we have is each other. The gangs. It's us versus the city and the god damned Empire."

"Letting the ABB fold would be inconvenient," Archer reminded gently, letting the poor girl off the hook.

Caster sighed. "Perhaps you're right. But it's hardly worth our time to prop up a collapsing gang. As irritating as it is, it'd be easier to let a new group take their place then break them after. But I suppose..."

She trailed off, eyes turning to Grue.

"You want us to do it?" Grue asked. "Possible, but tricky. The Empire is going to push hard."

"The Empire is our problem," Caster said firmly. "This work would likely extend well beyond the time alloted by our deal, so feel free to charge whatever you like."

Machina perked up.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Tattletale said, cutting the Tinker's hope back down. "You've got one hell of a hole to dig yourself out of. You want to turn the ABB into something decent? Then the first thing you're going to need to do is put your own house in order. Crack some skulls. Show them who's boss. Throw out the worst thugs and drag in a few of those civvies Bakuda kidnapped to give your organization respectability.

"And that's the easy part. The hard part is pulling it off while everything is burning down all around you. The Empire is going to fight every step of the way. Coil is going to pick at your weaknesses. Cede territory when pressed. Focus inward instead of outward. But most importantly, don't make waves."

"But don't yield too much either, or you'll lose respect," Grue interjected. "As much as people love a winner, they hate a loser. Basic strategy might tell you to give ground, but if you want to keep the ABB solid they'll have to bleed for every inch of it."

"Exactly," Tattletale concurred. "But don't forget the ABB can't win a straight up fight, not without Lung. More importantly you can't afford to, because the moment you end up in the news you're done. Bakuda's bullshit destroyed the ABB's rep. The heads of the PRT and Protectorate might have their eye on the big picture, but the public won't be so forgiving.

"The government needs the ABB not to exist. So give that to them. Change your colors. Change your name. Throw your pride in the fucking gutter and hand the PRT the PR victory they want. Do that and the Protectorate will turn their resources against the E88, buying you miles of breathing space. Fuck it up and Armsmaster will play hammer to Kaiser's anvil."

Machina nodded. She looked a little overwhelmed. I knew I would be.

"We can help," Grue said.

"And you're going to need all the help you can get," Tattletale interrupted.

"But it's not for free," Grue continued. "I'll want future favors in addition to whatever Caster is charging for our services. And territory. The area near the Docks for a start."

"Oh, and lots of cash too!" Regent interjected.

"No cash. Favors only for now. If... and I do mean _if,_ things work out, we can plan our business relationship later," Grue contradicted.

His skull shaped helmet turned toward Regent, darkened wisps spilling from the cracks in understated threat. Then his gaze returned to the Tinker.

"But understand, you'll have to do your share of the heavy lifting. Being a cape is about respect. You want to rule this gang? Then you need to claim it. Show strength. Independence. Let them know you aren't to be messed with. You can use us – and believe me, we'll use you – but you gotta be able to stand on your own or nothing we do will matter."

Tattletale raised a hand, calling attention to herself.

"I'd like to say you have time to think about this offer," Tattletale cut in. "But, frankly, you don't. Lung's lieutenants are out shopping for a parahuman that better fits their style. You've got a week, maybe two, before you're replaced."

Machina sank. Having it all laid out was soul crushing. This was one hell of a mess she was taking onto her shoulders. I didn't envy her one bit.

"Ah," Caster noised. "Before we go any further, I should mention my price."

The brunette paused for a moment, letting all eyes shift back to her.

"I want samples of your work. No fewer than three unique devices," Caster supplied, holding up a number of fingers to match. "More generally, I expect you to maintain order in Brockton Bay. If you see a new cape, you read them _my_ rules or pass them along to me. Finally, to ensure that we both get off on the right foot, I reserve veto powers over all new business ventures the ABB undertakes for, let's say, the next six months."

Machina nodded. Grue picked up the thread.

"I'm not going to lie to you," Grue continued. "Chances of this working the way you want are slim. Honestly, you'd be a hell of a lot safer joining the Wards."

"I'll do it." The girl didn't even hesitate.

"Then the Undersiders will contact you and help you put together a game plan over the next few days," Grue said, offering a hand.

Machina took it, giving a firm shake.

"Thank you." She sounded shaky but genuine.

"If you come to regret this decision, all you need to do is speak up," Archer added. "We'll see you safely extracted."

"Verily," Saber agreed. "To claim lordship of a den of bandits in hopes of turning them to good deeds takes honor and foolishness in equal measure. But know that so long as that honor does not tarnish, my blade shall bear you no enmity."

Machina stared at my team as though she didn't know what to say. Eventually she bowed and took her leave.

Caster allowed Machina few seconds head start then stood herself. The Undersiders rose to their feet in tandem.

"Well, that was more fruitful than I expected," she said. The brunette stepped away from the table, moving toward the door. "Now, how about we see what Faultline has to say to us?"

Archer let out a gruff laugh, falling step beside her. "She probably wants you to pay for the nightclub you destroyed."

"That was hardly my fault," Caster countered, brushing back her hair prissily. "If she wants to complain about property damage, she can direct it toward the one who carried out the offense."

We paused, letting the Undersiders file out first.

"You can't repair it?" I asked, equal parts curious and amused.

"A skilled magus can fix a lot of things, but an entire building – especially one burned down by prana laced fire – is excessive even for someone like me."

"Despite the face Caster prefers to present, she remains imperfect," Saber added calmly.

With a suave bow, the tiny blonde opened the door and gesturing for us to pass through. For a former king, Saber had certainly taken to the role of the chivalrous knight.

Caster set a hand on her hip. "Are you picking on me?"

"Of course," Archer answered unhesitantly. His lips quirked. "And we will continue to do so until you cease being careless."

"Indeed," Saber echoed firmly. "A concern I have for you both."

We stepped out into the night.

Faultline's crew occupied a spot near the city sidewalk. Newter sat atop a streetlight, feet dangling, while Faultine rested against the post. Gregor was at her side, quietly conferring with his leader. Labyrinth and Spitfire stood two paces behind. Faultline nodded to us as we exited and stepped away from the post.

We approached, the Undersiders falling to the wayside. Eight capes to her five.

"Caster," Faultline greeted. Her tone was sour.

"Faultline," Caster returned pleasantly, as though she were greeting an old friend. "You have business?"

"Yes," Faultline answered abruptly. "I'm willing to do full information sharing. Examination of my capes and access to everything I've learned about Case 53's in exchange for whatever you know about the same. But first I want a favor."

"Tempting," Caster murmured. "But why should I carry the extra burden in this exchange?"

"Because the favor I want is something you'd follow up on anyway," Faultline countered instantly. She gave a pause to let her words sink in. "I don't know if you are aware of it, but there have been persistent rumors of a man that can sell powers."

I raised a brow.

"The Dealer. Tallahassee, Florida," Tattletale chimed in, peeling away from Grue's group to step closer to ours. "Never confirmed."

"Not just him. But he's the most recent. More importantly, the data fits with what we know about Case 53s," Faultline pointed out, glancing toward the freckled blonde. "We know someone is creating them, and we know that same someone is giving away powers. The Dealer gives gives us a suspect. Better yet, the blogger who wrote the post describing the Dealer's vials depicted them in detail. On their lid was a symbol, a stylized Omega."

Tattletale's eyes gleamed. "Exactly like the tattoo."

"And you want us to follow up?" I inserted.

"No," Faultline contradicted, eyes flicking to me in annoyance. "The blogger was murdered. I have a lead in that direction, but I'll chase it myself."

"Very conspiracy theory," Tattletale replied. "You have something else. A long-shot you can't follow."

Faultline shot her a glare, but picked up the thread anyway.

"There has a been a persistent rumor, longer lived even than whispers of the Dealer. If you work for Accord, you'll get powers. In light of this new information, the two of them might be connected. Problem is, Accord won't talk to me."

"But he will talk to _me_ ," Caster finished.

Faultline nodded.

"After what you pulled in the Bay last week, he can't refuse a chat," Faultline confirmed. "To do so would go against his image. Whether or not he'll tell you anything is another question, but I trust you can be persuasive."

" _Hmm_ ," Caster noised in consideration. "Well, I suppose I am quite charming."

Archer snorted. Caster stomped on his toes, her angelic smile never fading. The redhead winced. He was lucky Caster wasn't wearing heels. Then again, for all her feminine style, Caster was rather practical when it came to her combat equipment.

"I don't care how you do it. Get me what Accord knows and we have a deal," Faultline said gruffly.

With that, the woman turned her back and gestured. As one, Faultline's crew faded into the night.

"Well," Caster said, after a moment. "It looks like we're going to Boston."

-oOo-

 _ **Rule Breaker** [Canonical Phantasm]  
Projected Noble Phantasm – Rank D – Anti-Thaumaturgy_

 _A brittle, iridescent dagger that represents the divinity of Medea, the witch of the betrayal. Though a ritual dagger, its existence as a noble phantasm is sufficient to create a cutting edge far superior to any ordinary knife._

 _Rule breaker's power is the ability to destroy and disperse thaumaturgic effects. In many ways, Rule Breaker can be considered the ultimate anti-magic phantasm. In the case of contracts, Rule Breaker's aspect of 'betrayal' comes into play, allowing such bonds to be usurped or reversed._

 **Quick Timeline of Events:**

 _Monday, April 11_ _th_ _: Chapter 1, 2, 3  
_ _Fighting Lung (Early morning)  
Meeting the Undersiders / Unit 09  
Rin and Taylor talk at the manor  
Late night patrol with Shirou (technically April 12th)_

 _Tuesday, April 12th :Chapter 3, 4  
_ _Skipping School, hopping the fence  
Sparring Match  
Meeting with Danny, sign off at Winslow_

 _Wednesday, April 13th: Chapter 4  
_ _Examination of Magical Circuits  
_

 _Thursday, April 14th: Chapter 5, 6  
_ _Breakfast with Tattletale  
Learning Reinforcement and Structural Analysis  
Bank job  
Piggot Interlude, After job meeting_

 _Sunday, April 17th : Chapter 7, 8, 9, 10, 11  
_ _Hanging with Grue  
Bakuda's bombs, ice pillar, amputation  
ABB / Merchant battle  
Tattletale Interlude  
Meeting Miss Militia_

 _Monday, April 18th : Chapter 11  
_ _Morning after  
First day of formal tutoring_

 _Friday, April 22nd: Chapter 12  
_ _Final anti-Merchant patrol  
Somer's Rock invite_

 _Saturday, April 23rd : Chapter 12  
_ _Somer's Rock meeting_

 _NOTE: By weird coincidence, the Somer's Rock meeting occurred on the same day as in canon._


	13. Chapter 13

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 13**  
-oOo-

Blue eyes, as deep as oceans, bore down on me. I could feel myself sinking into the abyss. Prana whirled in my circuits, the flow warring with the fog dragging at my thoughts. _Look away_. I tried to pry our eyes apart. A blink and they were joined again. Dull lethargy embraced me. What was I doing? The blue eyes seemed bigger now, swallowing my field of vision.

Oh yeah. I was...

… I was...

The flow cut off. My mind suddenly jerked to awareness.

"Fuck."

"Language, Taylor," Rin chided. "Don't be surprised if you don't get it the first few times. As a magus I'm stronger than you, and I have Mystic Eyes of Whispers to boot."

The tires of Saber's sedan thudded over a break in the pavement.

It was Tuesday, three days after the meeting at Somer's Rock, and we were piled up in Saber's car. Shirou was in the driver's seat, while Rin looked back at me from the passenger's side. The trip had been delayed one day on account of Lisa, who currently sat to my right. As for Saber? She was riding escort on her steed, enjoying the thrill of the open road and the wind whipping across her face.

We had skipped over to I-495 ten minutes ago, bypassing Newburyport and hopefully some of the traffic along the coast. Barring any major delays, we would hit Boston in half-an-hour.

Which all led to this. Hypnosis resistance training. Which, I suppose, beat I-spy as a roadside time killer.

"Sorry," I said. I shook my head, trying to free my mind from the vapors of Hypnosis induced sleep.

"Ready for another round?" Rin asked.

I grimaced.

"How about we do something different?" Lisa interrupted. The freckled blonde offered me a conniving smile. "Taylor might pick things up easier if she experienced the other end of it."

My look of relief transformed into a glower of betrayal.

"I suppose. Hypnosis _is_ a required skill for a proper Enforcer, so I have to teach it to her anyway," Rin said after a moment of consideration. "But before we do, how are things holding?"

"Give me a second," I murmured.

I pulsed my circuits. A connection, like an ephemeral thread, came to life invigorated by the flow of prana. My power buzzed in my head like an eager puppy. The line fastened. A presence filtered through my brain. Sight. Touch. Sound. Denser and heavier than I was used to.

Mr Fuzzy was what I had named him. A tarantula of the species lasiodora parahybana to be specific. My first familiar.

Mr Fuzzy wasn't anything terribly special. Shirou had picked up the little guy at a Brockton Bay pet shop last Wednesday, which said all anyone needed to know about Mr Fuzzy's rarity. He wasn't particularly threatening either. Mr. Fuzzy might give some poor soul a terrible scare and a few nasty welts if he jumped onto their face, but he'd meet a grizzly end under their boot shortly thereafter.

But Mr Fuzzy was mine in a way no insect before ever had been.

Information flowed through me. Sight was crisp, almost human. Hearing was sharp, capable of distinguishing words and phrases. I could taste the dank, dark air passing beneath Mr. Fuzzy's mandibles. My power pulsed, the five quiet circuits attached almost throbbing in response. My awareness expanded through the link, spreading into a miniature sphere of influence that measured a mere meter in radius.

Disappointing. But beggars couldn't be choosers, and I would just have to deal with Mr Fuzzy's limits.

Hundreds of bugs danced in Mr Fuzzy's zone of control, moving according to my will. The tarantula skittered amongst space Rin had allocated as my workshop, reviewing the laboring spiders. Widows span lines of silk while golden orb-weavers gathered the fiber and wound it onto spindles. I reissued orders, pulling away one shift of spiders to feast on a parade of crickets while a second stepped up to take their place.

I reviewed my tiny factory and was pleased by the rate of production. Three-hundred black widows had been gathered from a swath of Brockton Bay. Two-dozen eggsacks were already incubating, but it would be near a full month before they hatched. Which was good because I still hadn't gotten the hang of feeding the critters prana without making them explode.

Well, I would just have to scrounge up more when I got back.

With a thought, I disconnected from my familiar.

"The bounded field is holding up without problems," I said. "But having to babysit to keep my spiders from working themselves to death is really annoying."

"I have some thoughts on how to improve things, but you'll just have to deal for now because it'll take some time to work out the kinks," Rin replied. "Any trouble projecting your power?"

I shook my head. "Hasn't diminished the slightest. But the bond is getting duller the further we travel and I'm using about twice as much prana to communicate as before."

"Familiar bonds don't have infinite range, so that's to be expected," Rin explained. "That your parahuman ability is undiminished is unfortunate, as it indicates that the issue is with the familiar rather than the connection."

"So, maybe if I try with something else?" I asked hopefully.

Lisa grimaced. "Yeah, that's not going to work. You're probably going to need something a little more esoteric."

Lisa and I looked to Rin for confirmation. The brunette sighed.

"Lisa is, unfortunately, correct. To achieve better results you'll have to modify the underlying organism, which is outside my domain of expertise. I do have a book related to the subject, A Treatise of Homunculi and Chimera by Jobst von Einzbern, if you'd like to borrow it. It's not a light read, however, and parts of it are in sixteenth-century German."

Joy.

"Or you could grab Panacea and make her do it for you," Lisa teased.

"It'd be safer to kidnap Bonesaw," I deadpanned. Well, not really, but nabbing Panacea would definitely earn me a kill order. "And since when could Panacea muck with biology?"

"Oh, please," Lisa said, rolling her eyes. "Panacea has always been a biokinetic. It's so obvious. I can't believe people fall for that bullshit propaganda New Wave spews claiming she's just a healer."

Yeah. Obvious. Which was why Lisa was the only one who knew.

"Not everyone in this car is a Thinker," I said sourly.

"Technically, untrue," the blonde corrected cheerfully.

I gave Lisa my deepest glower.

" _Ahem_ ," Rin noised. She formed a polite smile. "Let's focus on the lesson, shall we."

Shit.

"Do I have to?" I knew I sounded like a whiny fifteen-year-old, but that's because I was a whiny fifteen-year-old.

Rin's eyes darkened. "Taylor, there are three skills that every Enforcer must learn. Hypnosis, Reinforcement, and Resistance. As a member of my unit, I expect you to be diligent in your pursuit of these techniques. If you wish to study beyond those limits, I will provide materials. However, I will _not_ waste my time on a resistant student."

I shrank back. "Sorry, it's just..."

Rin's expression softened.

"I know you have your issues with Hypnosis, but it is a necessary skill. Hypnosis allows Enforcers to resolve problems with minimal violence. So, if for no other reasons, you should learn it for the benefit of everyone around you."

"It's not that I don't understand. It's just... Mucking with other peoples' minds bothers me."

I shook my head in distaste. The truth of it was, I was all too aware that learning Hypnosis would turn me into a giant hypocrite. Basically, I was being stupid and stubborn when I should be acting like an adult.

Squaring my shoulders, I met Rin's gaze.

"How do I do this?"

Rin scrutinized me for a moment, judging my commitment.

"To start, how about you reiterate what you have learned."

I closed my eyes and refreshed my memory. Rin had given my a crash course in Hypnosis at the beginning of the trip, mainly from perspective of how to resist it. But, as usual, the brunette couldn't thwart her urge to provide excruciating detail.

"Hypnosis is a mystery that falls under the air-information axis. Activation of the mystery is initiated by forging a prana bond with the target through the principle of correspondence, typically by means of a shared sensation. The most common tactic being eye-contact, with the medium of transport being the shared reflection in the ocular lens."

"Correct, though sound or smell also suffice. Be especially wary of treated incense, as prepared tools laden with prana are harder to resist. Eye contact, however, is the easiest medium to work with so we'll start with that," Rin lectured, adopting her classic pose. "Now, name the stages."

"Junction, lull, then suggestion," I said quickly. "First forge the prana bond, then lull the target mind into a sleep-like state, finally apply the suggestion once the conscious mind has fallen into slumber."

"Good, you have a grasp of the core theory then," Rin said. "I'll walk you through the steps. But before that, we need a volunteer."

An evil smile spread on Rin's lips as her eyes turned to Lisa.

"Me?"

From the blonde's innocent smile, I deduced that she wasn't entirely opposed to what was coming.

"Well, it would hardly be fair to have Taylor start with someone with a strong magic resistance like myself," Rin retorted boldly.

I looked at Lisa. "You sure you're okay with this?"

Lisa set her hands on mine and looked me straight in the eye.

"Taylor, I trust you," she said with dead seriousness. "But if you do turn me into your love slave, please be gentle."

…

There was only one thing to do. I punched Lisa in the shoulder. The freckled blond jerked back, a teasing smile upon her lips.

"Ow," Lisa feigned. She held her arm pathetically, pretending I had given her more than a light tap.

"Oh, please," I retorted, playfully shoving her again.

"Hey, stop!" Lisa returned between fits of giggles.

"Don't make me pull this car over," Shirou warned from up front.

Rin sighed at our childish antics, but I could hear Shirou's stifled chuckle.

"If you two are done, I'd like continue with the lesson," Rin said sternly.

I flushed with embarrassment. The two of us settled back into place. Somewhat nervously, I looked Lisa straight in the eye.

"I'm ready."

"Good," Rin said, picking up from where she left off. "Hypnosis is a finesse technique, so it won't require more than a small amount of prana. Begin by concentrating the energy at the back of your eyes. A gentle pressure and no more, I don't want you spraying intraocular fluid all over the back of Saber's car. Once you have it, you should feel a resonance or echo in Lisa's eye. The experience should be akin but weaker than what you feel when forming a familiar bond."

I nodded and allowed my prana to flow, pooling near my retinas. I was careful to limit the amount of energy, avoiding the application of pressure not so much because I didn't want to dirty the back of Saber's sedan, but rather that I didn't want my eyeballs exploding. That was one experience I could do without, thank you very much.

And no, the fact Avalon could regenerate my eyes didn't make it better.

My effort was slow and clumsy. I wasn't used to concentrating prana in a specific part of my body, having mostly used my hands or bugs as vectors. It wasn't _hard,_ just different. Like trying to write with my left hand instead of my right.

"You are getting sleepy. Very sleepy," Lisa spoke in a dull monotone.

I glowered at the blonde across from me. My eyes itched. The prana inside made them feel weird and I wanted to rub away the sensation. I focused, searching for the connection Rin described. Something flickered at the edge of my awareness, sliding, bobbing, or outright vanishing with every bump of the road and roll of the car.

"I think... Yeah. I'm pretty sure I got it," I said, finally catching the connection. I poured prana into the bond, creating what was best described as a live wire.

"Excellent. It'll come faster with practice," Rin said. "Now once the junction is solid, allow your prana to flood in through Lisa's optic nerve. Then slowly, _gently_ , exude a pressure to slow her thoughts. Envision your prana as a gel capturing the electric impulses cascading through her neurons. Remember, _gentle_."

"Wow, that feels funky," Lisa said. She blinked several times in rapid succession, nearly shattering the connection. "Just as an aside, Taylor, please don't break my brain."

"She can't," Rin replied for me. "This sort of bond is too weak, and Taylor doesn't have the leverage to apply that level of pressure. Especially on living tissue that naturally resists prana."

Well _that_ was a relief. In retrospect, I should have known without having been told.

"But don't take that as an excuse to be careless," Rin immediately warned.

Lisa blinked again, this time lazier. Her gaze and motions were growing dull. More telling, she didn't offer any quips, which I took to indicate that my efforts were working.

"What happens if I push too hard," I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

"You'll knock her unconscious for all of five seconds. Then she'll jerk back awake with her fight-or-flight response fully engaged, which will make your job that much harder," Rin explained. "The trick is to apply enough force to lull the mind _without_ pushing so hard that she blacks out."

I nodded, careful to keep my gaze pinned to Lisa's then applied more force. I could feel her brain gel up faster, slowing until the blonde's eyes grew glassy.

"Looks like you have it," Rin said, observing me keenly. "At this point you can branch out to apply a suggestion or further disrupt neural operation. For now I just want you to lull Lisa's mind into a proper sleep state. You can achieve this by massaging the lower-front section of her posterior hypothalmus with your prana."

I jerked and almost broke the connection.

"Massage the what now?" I asked in annoyance. It was all I could do to not glare at Rin.

"The posterior hypothalamus. It's the region of the brain under the main lobes and near the brain-stem. You can find it by looking just above pituitary gland," Rin supplied helpfully.

"The only words you spoke that meant anything to me are 'lobes' and 'brain-stem'. So unless you have a picture, you're going to have to do better than that," I replied caustically.

"Personally, I prefer to visualize a sword cutting the target's consciousness," Shirou's gruff voice interrupted. "You might try the same, but in terms that better fit your parahuman power."

Now _that_ was something I could work with.

"I'm trying to teach her how to do this properly," Rin retorted in a huff. "Visualization is a crutch. You'll get better results and have more versatility if you learn the functions mechanically."

Yeah. Too bad Rin, but I was doing this Shirou's way. If Rin wanted to teach me this 'properly', she needed diagrams and a textbook. Refocusing my approach, I visualized Lisa's mind in terms of my power. A connection, like the one I used to control my bugs. Now, how would I put a bug to sleep?

I'd give it an order.

I frowned and thought _sleep_ in Lisa's direction. Nothing. No, I was doing this wrong. _Sleep,_ I commanded again, but this time I targeted my network of insects instead of Lisa. _Sleep_. I repeated the order several more times, tracing the feel, capturing the essence of what I was sending my bugs. Then I turned my mind back to Lisa.

 _Sleep_.

The effect was instant. Lisa's brain function shifted. All strength left her frame. The freckled blonde tilted then collapsed on top of me.

I blinked. Was it supposed to be that easy? I shook my head then cut my circuits with a purely mental _Beenden._ Rubbing my throbbing eyes, I turned back to Rin.

"Done."

Rin frowned, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"She's quick," Shirou said, teasing the brunette. "At this rate she might end up replacing you."

"We'll see," Rin replied dangerously. Her gaze flashed back to me. "What did you do?"

I squirmed under her attention. "I... uh... told her to sleep like I would tell my bugs?"

Rin's eyes narrowed further. Cold. Threatening. A chill swept down my spine. I had the sudden feeling that I was a specimen pinned to a steel tray and Rin was looming over me, scalpel in hand.

" _Interesting_ ," she breathed, elongating the word. Then Rin suddenly turned back to the front, flipping her hair as she moved. "We'll talk about this later. We're nearly there. Wake Lisa up."

My eyes shifted to the window just in time to watch a Boston city limits sign whiz by. No more time for lessons then. I nudged Lisa awake, first gently then with increasing force when the freckled blonde squirmed rather than rise. By the time Lisa was blinking her bleary eyes, larger brick buildings flew by on our left as we crossed a bridge and entered the city proper.

Reaching under my seat, I opened my bag and procured my mask and equipment. My costume was already on, the chitin armored chest hidden beneath a light jacket. A crude disguise. The pants peeking from beneath would draw eyes and questions.

It was times like these that I appreciated the design of Rin and Shirou's uniforms. Throw away Shirou's cape and Rin's shawl then hide the breast plate under a coat and the two of them looked like ordinary civilians.

Probably intentional, come to think about it. Something to keep in mind when I made my next costume.

Shirou, no, _Archer_ pulled into a parking garage half-a-kilometer from the meeting point. Saber's bike came to a slow beside her sedan. I stepped out, pulling my mask over my head, officially taking on the role of Overmind.

" _Anfang Käfer._ "

Trading power and a dollop of control for area, I gripped my swarm and oriented myself. It took a few seconds to find the meeting place. I gave it a good gander, scanning the space with my bugs. I didn't get the best look at it. My swarm was too thin to form a proper chain of eyes and I didn't want the Ambassadors to know I was spying on them.

"White van, four suits, and two capes. Looks like Citrine and Switchup," I reported.

"How rude," Caster said, cute nose scrunched in annoyance. "After coming all this way, he intends to shove me into the back of a car and drag me around in the dark."

"Told you," Tattletale said while fixing her domino mask to her face. She offered a smug smile. "Accord can't afford to meet with all of Unit 09. You're too strong and he can't guess your motives. But he can't refuse a meeting either, so he's giving you what you want under safe conditions."

Saber nodded thoughtfully. "The excess of soldiers is to ensure our cooperation. If we move while our enemy provides Caster escort, they will raise the alarm."

I formed the picture in my mind. Three or four suits against Saber and Archer? No way in hell Accord was that stupid.

"They'll have backup," I concluded, casting my awareness across the nearest blocks. Too many people and no one stuck out. If anyone was watching, they were out of costume. Smart. "Othello?"

Accord's Ambassadors consisted of five supporting capes: Citrine, Othello, Switchup, Gaslight, and Shiftstate. Othello was a Stranger classed cape most often used as an infiltrator or spy. The PHO's description of his power was iffy, portraying it as teleportation or invisibility. Tattletale had speculated that what Othello had was closer to an invisible friend and the two of them could switch places.

"Probably," Tattletale replied.

"Then we come to a crossroad," Saber said solemnly. "Will one of us remain behind to let our enemy think we have fallen for his deceit? Or shall we bypass this trap altogether?"

"We ignore it," Caster decided in a snap. "If Accord wants to be rude, we return the favor."

"He'll know we're holding out on him," Tattletale pointed out.

"He'll suspect," Caster corrected. "But as you said yourself, he can't refuse. Besides, if your impression of his character is correct, he'll think better of us for evading his plot."

"Then we head out in the car while Caster meets them?" I asked.

"No," Archer said after a long moment of consideration. "Saber and Overmind will remain here and intervene if necessary. I'll take Tattletale to an alternative observation point on the roofs. Assuming everything goes as planned, we follow the van separately."

"And meet up when we reach Accord's headquarters," I finished, nodding in understanding. Having two groups would also make it harder for the Ambassadors to shake us. "I guess I'm riding behind Saber then?"

"And Archer gets to sweep me off my feet," Tattletale teased.

Caster's brilliant blue eyes tightened into a dark glare. Tattletale shot back with a playful smile.

"I suppose I need practice for when I'm giving piggy-back rides to little girls," Archer mused.

Ouch. Caster's expression turned smug. Tattletale took it with good humor.

"If we're done here, I'm off," Caster interrupted. She paused, then snidely added. "And do try to avoid dropping her. It's terribly difficult to replace a Thinker."

Without waiting for a reply, Caster turned and dashed to the side of the parking garage. Vaulting over the concrete parapet, the brunette dropped out of view.

"Was it something I said?" Tattletale asked innocently.

"We should go," Archer interrupted.

Without hesitation he swept Tattletale into a princess carry. In as many seconds as it took Caster, he vanished.

"Stay here or reposition?" I asked.

"I would prefer we be positioned for swift response."

I nodded and reluctantly removed my mask. Pulling my jacket back on, I took a seat on the back of Saber's motorcycle. The tiny blonde rolled her machine out of the garage, circled the block, then pulled into a small gas station.

While we moved, I kept eyes on Caster.

 _The brunette sauntered into the park, blood red spear in hand. The location Accord had chose was out of the way, long unused, and shielded from the public eye by a copse of pine trees. The Ambassadors' white van was pulled up onto the grass, flanked by a line of suits. Citrine was slightly to the fore, a picture of elegance in her yellow ballgown. Switchup, wearing a domino mask and James Bond tuxedo, stood at her side. I could smell the gunpowder residue on him and had already located the pistol holstered at his back._

" _-ere ar- your -mpan-ns?"_

Citrine's voice filtered through my bugs, barely intelligible. I adjusted the position of my swarm, thickening a few nodules with a better mix of insects.

" _Oh?" Caster noised, making a show of looking around. "I -ppo that dep-nds. Where's Accord?"_

 _Citrine gave a light frown, as though she were put upon. "He will meet you at a more comfortable location."_

" _Then it is only appropriate that my companions are also elsewhere," Caster returned with an angelic smile. "Is that my ride?"_

 _Citrine's frown deepened. Pressing lightly on her left ear, she murmured something too quiet for my bugs to catch. After a moment she nodded to a pair of suits. The two well-dressed security guards opened the van's trunk. The interior defied my expectations. Instead of cold metal there were leather seats and lush amenities._

" _Accord is displeased but finds your terms acceptable. You may keep your weapons if you wish," Citrine said finally, nodding to the brunette's spear. "And please help yourself to the refreshments."_

" _How droll," Caster sounded. With a nonchalant jaunt she entered the van. "Shall we?"_

 _Switchup and three of the suits entered the back of the van with her, pulling the doors closed behind them. Citrine and another suit took a seat up front._

Moving my swarm inside would be too obvious, so I layered my bugs beneath the vehicle's undercarriage.

"They're moving," I informed.

"Understood," Saber said firmly, wheeling out of the gas station.

We trailed the van, using the side streets to follow, always staying a block or two away. I provided direction, gesturing or shouting against the wind to let Saber know whenever they turned.

After ten minutes of pursuit and a couple twists and turns, the van came to a stop underneath a four-story glass office building. Saber pulled into a back alley moments later and we disembarked.

I put on my mask. Again. While I was wrestling with the buckles, Archer showed. The redhead descended, feet tapping against concrete walls, freckled blonde in tow. Tattletale winced as they set down.

"That was exciting," Tattletale groaned, setting wobbly feet on the ground. She grimaced. "And a little bumpier than I like."

"Not quite the Disney Princess dream you were imagining?" I returned.

"About the same as Angelica, actually," Tattletale replied while shaking the kinks loose. "More padding but worse on the spine."

"I'll take that under advisement," Archer interrupted. "Overmind, what's the situation?"

"They moved Caster through an underground parking lot," I answered. "She's in the elevator now, headed for the third floor. I'm still moving my swarm in, mapping out the interior."

Archer nodded. "We should have time to plan before the meeting with Accord begins."

"We could wait until they release Caster," I pointed out.

"No good," Tattletale replied. "While this isn't a throwaway base, Accord will definitely relocate the moment they let Caster out of sight."

"Overmind, can you describe the enemy's fortifications?" Saber interrupted coolly, returning our focus to the task.

"Sure." I paused. "Actually, I can do you one better."

Gathering ants, cockroaches, and other insects, I traced out five squares in the back alley concrete. One for each floor. The insects moved, defining the building's interior and providing a crude map of sorts. Archer, Saber, and Tattletale suddenly crowded closer.

"Hey, can you show where Caster is now?" Tattletale asked.

"Elevator, heading to the third floor," I said, pointing out my cricket surrogate.

"Nice. Okay, it looks like Accord owns the third floor," Tattletale explained, she picked up a short length of wood. "Scratch that, he actually owns everything, but the first two floors are run by civies who are out of the loop. Accord uses them as cover to make his other businesses look legit."

Tattletale paused, then tapped her rod on two small boxes. "Security rooms here and here."

"You're relaying this from your bugs inside?" Archer asked.

"Yeah," I confirmed.

"I see," Archer murmured. He squatted down near my maps, eyes narrowed. "If you don't mind, I would like to try something."

I nodded. Archer waved a hand over my bugs. A wall of prana ripped through my swarm. Sharp, intense, even though the amount of energy used was minute. Static crawled through my mind. My power warbled, fading in and out as though a string had been struck. I caught whiff of the mystery only from experience. Structural Analysis. But so fast and precise that it dwarfed my abilities.

I blinked. "Wha-?"

Without waiting for an explanation, Archer promptly projected chest-high copy of Accord's tower. The redhead then unfolded the model like a doll house, opening the interior for all our view.

"Oh, that's a heaping pile of bullshit," Tattletale complained, stealing the words from my mouth. She looked at me. "Can you?"

My insects filed into the tower, taking the position of people and patrols. Accord's tower held nearly two hundred persons in total, though only a fraction were under Accord's direct command. I marked those carrying carrying guns with spiders then slowly mounted flies on the walls wherever I found a camera.

"What shall be our method of approach?" Saber said, her stern blue eyes studying the structure.

"There are three elevators," I pointed out, gesturing to the shafts. "And one of them gives us a straight shot to Accord's office."

"Good eye, but that's Accord's escape route. It'll be trapped to hell and back," Tattletale replied. "Assuming we can get it running in the first place."

"Don't have to," I returned. "Cut our way in then climb up. Sure, there'll be a lot of traps, but there won't be any guards."

Saber frowned. "I dislike leaving foes at my rear."

"Cutting in is a good idea," Archer said thoughtfully. "Allows us to cross from multiple points. How is their security setup?"

"Big bank of monitors, some computers," I said, describing the security room. "Half-a-dozen suits packing heat on the third floor. Nothing but generic uniforms on the first."

"It's hierarchical. Bottom office handles ordinary security. Petty thieves. Beak-ins. They'll have access to cameras on the first two floors and the roof. Middle office works under Accord. They have access to everything short of Accord's personal space," Tattletale concluded.

"What's the risk of reinforcements if we hit him directly?" Archer asked.

"High. Third floor security can't peek in on Accord's meetings, but they'll sure as hell get an alert if anyone or anything sets off the alarm. And since this is Accord, you can bet that triggering any of his traps will do exactly that."

"Then we must strike at our flank before we turn to our fore," Saber decided.

"Risky," Tattletale noted. "We might trip an alarm while handling Accord's goons, but if we strike the third floor security office first..."

"We _could_ just kidnap him," I pointed out. "All the alarms in the world aren't worth a cent if we're gone before anyone shows up."

Frankly, I wasn't sure it mattered either way. Between the dossiers Tattletale provided and the scouting of my swarm, I was confident we could walk in through the front door and pull the gig off. Still, no sense in being careless. It would be annoying if the local Protectorate showed up and spoiled our interrogation.

Tattletale grinned. "Wow. And to think I'm the supervillain."

I gave her a dirty look. Not that anyone could tell, given I was wearing a full mask. But this was Tattletale. I'm sure she got the message.

"Caster wants access to his records," Archer reminded. "But if things go sour we'll keep that option in mind."

"Then hitting the security office first is our best bet," Tattletale concluded. "We cut them off there and there is no way to raise the alarm except through Accord's personal systems, and he's going to be a might bit busy."

"Caster proceeds," Saber asserted.

The tiny blonde pointed at the insect representing Caster. I shifted my attention back to my swarm. Caster moved into Accord's office, flanked by two cape escorts. A pair of suits placed themselves outside the door, providing professional guard.

"She's in the room with Citrine and Shiftstate," I said, clarifying the details that couldn't be read by watching bugs advance. "Two goons on hand, with about half-a-dozen others within thirty seconds to the door – including Switchup. There are... a lot of traps."

I grimaced at the plethora of mechanics buried behind ceiling and walls.

"Gaslight?" Tattletale asked.

I shook my head. "Can't find him. Either he's not there, or he's out of costume."

Gaslight was a Blaster. A weird one. Instead of shooting beams of death, Gaslight fired memories. A knock off Gallant of sorts. Less combat effective, but better at support.

Tattletale frowned. Then she waved it off. "Doesn't matter. One less cape makes things easier. Our biggest problems are Citrine and Shiftstate. Citrine will probably focus on nullifying Caster's magecraft, which could put her in serious danger depending on how well Citrine's power works.

"Shiftstate isn't so much a threat as a mission risk. Shiftstate is a Striker/Shaker. He can turn gas into a solid or a solid into a gas. If we break in, he'll freeze us in place then drop Accord straight through the floor. It'll be hard to stop them from pulling a runner after that."

Archer nodded. The redhead closed his eyes and placed his fingers against his temple for a long moment.

"I've warned Caster of the danger," Archer said. The redhead looked at me. "Overmind, disable as many traps as you can. We need to move. The clock is ticking and we don't know how long Accord will chat before he throws Caster out."

Archer didn't need to tell me twice. I set my minions to work. Critters crawled through the walls, their tiny jaws clamping down on cords. Spiders operated in teams, weaving silk into gears and jamming hidden mechanics. I amplified my work with light touches of Structural Analysis, the mystery feeding me clues as to how Accord's machines worked. With that information, I attacked weakpoints and avoided folly.

"How we getting in?" I asked, mind divided.

"The roof," Saber supplied. "We shall cut into the main stairwell from above, bypassing the enemy checkpoint. From there we shall proceed forth and storm the security office on the third floor before doubling back to assault Accord."

"That leaves us with a fair bit of exposure during the ascent and in the third floor hallways," Tattletale pointed out.

All three of us looked at Archer.

"I have something that might work, but I've never used it before," Archer said grudgingly. " _Trace on._ "

A simple, bone hilted dagger appeared in the Archer's right hand. Its blade was as long as my forearm, the grip bleached white by time and age. The redhead passed the weapon to me. Despite being more than twice the size of my normal knives, it felt light, ephemeral, as though it were a breath away from vanishing from the world.

"Can you activate it?" Archer asked, gruffly.

" _Anfang Ader,_ " I murmured, my eight primary circuits warming in response.

I concentrated, pushing prana through the dagger's hilt. The energy rolled over the weapon's surface, repelled like water on a rain jacket. A connection that refused to be forged. With a frown, I wrestled with the energy for a few seconds before giving up.

"Can't seem to get it to click."

"Thought that might be the case," Archer said, taking the dagger back before handing it to the tiny blonde. "Saber, if you would."

"So that you are aware, that dagger never belonged to me," Saber said, sounding quite displeased with the notion. "The legend was misappropriated."

Despite her words, Saber gripped the weapon's hilt. Almost immediately, shadows curled around the girl's arm then wrapped the tiny blonde in darkness. Except it wasn't darkness. Whatever the shadows touched became diminished. Less visible. Less tangible. Less real. It wasn't invisibility. I could still see Saber, standing as she was before. Calm. But my eyes wanted to slide off her. To look through her and into the space beyond.

"I think I see what I'm missing," Archer said thoughtfully. He pulled a second bone-hilted dagger from thin air. "Try it now."

I took the weapon again, letting my prana flow a second time. The reaction was instant. My shadow wavered then stretched, coiling itself around me like a snake. An empty warmth swept over my skin, neither cool nor hot, but the absence of both simultaneously. The world grew duller somehow. Faded, like an aged picture.

"Works," I said, though saying anything at this point was redundant. "Takes prana. Is Tattletale going to be able to handle it?"

I glanced at the freckled blonde.

Tattletale squinted, but managed to focus on me.

"No luck," she said, shaking her head. "I have four circuits, but they all attach to my power. So no magecraft for me."

"The field will extend over a soldier and his steed. So long as Tattletale remains close to one who wields it, the dagger shall provide sufficient cover," Saber provided. "Time grows short. We best proceed with this endeavor."

I nodded. Archer produced a white hilted dagger of his own while I double check my equipment. I looked up a second later to watch the redhead throw a coil of rope at Saber. The blonde knight snatched it out of the air then threw the loop over one shoulder. Without a word, Saber seized Tattletale by the waist.

"Hey!" the startled Thinker sputtered.

"Stiffen your neck," Saber ordered, hefting the girl into a protective carry.

Tattletale's eyes widened. That was all the warning she got before Saber shot off in a blur. Her speed and the dagger's magic were too much. My eyes lost sight of them in an instant. I blinked, glancing around trying to figure out where they had gone. It was only when Tattletale stepped away from Saber and gave me a jaunty wave from the top of the building's roof that I found them.

"How the hell?"

"Let's move," Archer replied, taking off at a jog.

I followed, shadows wrapping me in otherwordly stealth. To keep my eyes from sliding off Archer, I tagged him with a bug. Even with that advantage, it was a struggle not to forget his existence. We stopped at the corner of Accord's building in a back parking area nestled between a fence and a two storied building with few windows. The rope fell down to greet us, whipping against the textured concrete that made the building's walls.

Archer wrapped the cord around one arm, then held out the other.

"Hold tight."

Saber pulled the two of us up at a pace faster than I could jog. It only took a handful of seconds for us to reach top. Archer pushed me over the parapet and onto the roof before vaulting over himself. With a sharp gesture, he vanished the rope.

The top of Accord's building was gorgeous. Instead of asphalt, the roof was covered in lush green. Soft grass sank underfoot. A series of miniature trees grew from pots, beautifully trimmed with blossoming spring flowers. For a moment I admired the sight, my strategic mind picking out the three security cameras. One watched the main road, a second covered the rooftop entrance, and a third scanned the heavens in search of flying capes.

I didn't know how Archer's shiny new Stranger power interacted with electronics, but at this point it didn't matter. None of the cameras faced us.

"Where shall I place the aperture?" Saber queried.

My swarm swirled then drew a box of insects over the main stairwell. Saber nodded, armor forming around her. With a jerk of motion, she drove Invisible Air through grass, dirt, and concrete. She turned, sheering through stone with a wrenching motion. Once done, she pried out a clod of stone and earth, revealing the path below.

Without a word, Saber dropped inside.

One by one we followed, jumping down onto the fourth floor landing. Archer came last, pulling the lump of rock and grass into place behind him as he fell. I studied the severed segment. The cut Saber made was fine. If I didn't know what I was looking for, I would probably miss it.

Good enough.

"Stick close to Overmind," Saber ordered the freckled blonde before taking the lead.

Tattletale threw an arm over my shoulder. Our shadows intertwined then spread over the two of us. Weirdly, it made her feel more real rather than less.

"Guess we're buddies," she said, descending the stairs.

"We do seem to get stuck together often," I observed with a smile.

Saber paused at the door to the third floor. "Clear?"

My swarm scoured the space ahead, careful to remain hidden in the rafters. Traffic on the third floor was lighter than on the first or second, but there were still more than enough workers moving about that I couldn't guarantee any sort of safety. I waited for the best opening I could see.

"Clear."

We moved out into the hall at a rush. My hands were wet with sweat. My eyes darted side-to-side. I was nervous. Rationally, I knew that if things went wrong, we were strong enough to smash our way to victory. But I wasn't worried about us. I was worried about Caster. How much would Citrine's power degrade her own? How would it affect her magecraft? Her reinforcement? The enchantments on her armor?

Could Citrine negate so many powers at once?

We reached the security room without interruption. The door was sealed by code, card, and buzzer, with a wide peephole so that those inside could look out. If that wasn't enough, a camera covered the entire hall. Archer dealt with the obstacle expediently, forming a black blade in hand before slicing around the knob.

Saber and Archer burst inside.

Five suits looked up in shock. One was seated at the security bank, eyes having never caught our presence despite how we showed up crystal clear on the monitors. One fumbled with his coffee. The other three were better positioned and reached for their guns.

They never had a chance.

A deluge of insects dropped down from the rafters, startling the suits. Archer flashed in, folding a guard around his fist. With a twist the redhead pressed the suit against the ground, then slapped him in cuffs faster than I could blink. Saber took out two more, snapping bones like twigs. The suit with the coffee dropped his cup and pulled out his gun. Archer was faster, whirling the guard into a grapple while snatching the ceramic mug out of the air.

Saber set her sword against the last suit's neck.

Tattletale and I moved into the room, pulling the door shut behind us. Hopefully nobody would notice the crescent carved around the knob.

"Leave that one awake," Tattletale said, stepping away from me to approach the bank of machines. "I need a password."

Saber dragged the suit out the chair then pressed him against the ground before restraining him with plastic cuffs. Archer had the other four on the floor, hypnotizing them into blissful unconsciousness.

"No need," Archer answered. He stood, then glanced at me. "Put this one out."

I grimaced, looking down at the suit Saber had restrained. Shit. I knew nothing good would come from learning Hypnosis. With a groan, I approached Saber, who helpfully hoisted the suit to eye level. The man struggled pointlessly against her grip, muffled cries rising from his gagged mouth.

"Keep him from moving, will you?" I said.

Saber gabbed the suit's head with her free hand, holding it perfectly still. Good then next I had to... fuck. I had to take off my fucking mask to do this didn't I? I shot a scowl toward Archer, who was taking Tattletale's seat. He and Saber remained impassive. This was a lesson wasn't it? Shit. Maybe I could...

No. I wasn't skilled enough to play around. With a frustrated expression, I fumbled with the buckles then pulled off my mask. This time there was no wasting time and no asking questions. I knew the drill. Prana flooded my retina, drawing pangs of pain when I pulled a little too much. I brushed the irritation aside and looked the suit in the eye.

An echo. I found it almost instantly. I seized the connection, then dove straight in.

Fear. Pain. Adrenaline. The thoughts of the suit were not serene like a still lake as Tattletale's had been, instead they were the chaotic surface of a stormy ocean. Lulling this mind was akin to pinning a raging beast. Anger tore at my feeble grip, sharp claws sheering through my control. I bore down on him in frustration. He choked, his mind a churning fog.

Too harsh. Not power, finesse. I eased up. The suit sucked in a breath. For an instant he relaxed.

I flipped his mental switch before I could lose my psychic grip. The suit slumped. Saber set him gently on the ground, giving me a nod of acknowledgement.

"So much bullshit."

Tattletale's loud complaint drew my attention. Archer was stepping away from the controls of the security system, returning them to the freckled blonde. Tattletale turned and gave me a look of exasperation.

"Overmind, please tell him that's bullshit."

"All magecraft is bullshit," I replied. I pulled my mask back down then buckled into place. "I thought you knew that already."

"Yeah, but this is extra bullshitty bullshit."

I rolled my eyes. "What did he do? Snag the password by reading the keyboard's history?"

Tattletale threw up her arms. "You knew he could do that!"

"Yeah. Of course I did. Structural Analysis is one of the mysteries I'm studying."

Did she really think I would practice thaumaturgy without reading up on it? That Structural Analysis could read an object's history was well known, though the level of mastery required to do so was admittedly rare. It wasn't that large of a jump to deduce that Archer could use the mystery to grab a password. To be fair, the possibility hadn't occurred to me until a minute ago, but it was obvious in retrospect.

"Tattletale," Saber interrupted, tone reproving.

"Yeah, yeah," Tattletale replied, waving her off. The freckled blonde returned her gaze to the machines. "Give me a sec."

Archer glanced at Saber. The tiny blonde nodded, indicating that the room was secure. Tattletale leaned over the keyboard, flickering screens gleaming in her eye.

"What do we have here," she breathed. "The whole world at my finger tips. Whatever shall I do?"

"Deactivate as much of their systems as you can. Paralyze their response if possible. But keep things quiet for now," Archer ordered. He turned to me. "What does it look like?"

I shifted my perspective, sweeping the building with my human mind before checking on Caster. Sunlight poured into Accord's office through broad, glass windows. Accord himself was short, barely over five feet tall. He sat behind a gorgeous, handcrafted desk, flanked by Citrine and Shiftstate with Caster opposite. Two suits were outside the door, ready to respond.

A hint of how much Accord feared us. A fear that was well deserved, assuming this operation would go as planned.

"No response from the suits or Ambassadors," I said.

"Good," Archer said, nodding.

"Now what?" I asked.

"We get into position, then wait," Archer said firmly.

"Archer's right," Tattletale said. "Private meetings aren't technically covered by the unwritten rules, but they come close enough to make people uncomfortable. Waiting until the meeting ends..."

"... lets us claim that any truce that might have been has ended," I finished.

"Exactly," Tattletale said, gleefully pounding a key with a broad motion of arm and finger. "Besides, Caster's negotiations might work out. We'd feel awfully silly if we broke in right as they struck a deal."

Archer and I snorted.

"What? It could happen."

"We best make haste," Saber concluded. "Hostilities may begin at any time."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Tattletale said, smiling. "Oh. I'm done here, in case you're wondering."

"How are we getting in?" I asked, glancing between my partners.

"The third floor bathroom was adjacent to another room. What's in it?" Archer asked as he headed for the door.

"The one that aligns with Accord's office?" I asked, following a step behind. "Computers and filing cabinets."

"We'll enter from there," Archer decided.

The two blondes piled up behind us. Archer tilted his head, waiting from my signal. I closed my eyes, focused on my swarm, and judged the motions of the patrols.

"Clear."

We moved.

It was a short jaunt from security room to bathroom. Archer wasted no time carving a hole into the far wall then pushing the remnants into a stall. From there it was a waiting game. I spent the idle moments directing the rest of my swarm into the rafters above Accord's office. Insects flowed through air vents and skittered above ceiling tiles. Chitin jaws continued to loosen wires and strings. Smaller critters crawled between gears whereupon their larger brothers tore them apart. Silken threads wound through everything.

Most of all, I watched and listened.

" _Who w-s it you said, t-ld y- of this matter?"_

" _I didn't."_

" _F-ltline then," Accord replied. "I've h-rd rumors of their interest, and you cert-nly know that if I had knowledge of this matt-r that I couldn't share it with anyone that would, in turn, sh-re it with them. Sloppy. I expected better of you given Unit 09's reputation."_

" _There is no need to play coy with me, Accord. I am aware that parah-ans can be created. My interest in this affair is not -tagonistic."_

" _I'm afraid that I kn-w nothing."_

" _I'm not asking."_

"Sh–"

Saber sliced through the wall before I could finish my curse, her invisible blade expertly skewering the fragment of debris to set it gently aside. In the same instant, a bow virtually teleported into Archer's hands. My swarm dumped down from overhead. Caster jolted from her seat.

Shiftstate was faster. He raised a hand and the air hardened. My bugs froze in empty space, suspended in solid sky. Caster stilled, her form caught half in motion. But, as fast as Shiftstate's reactions were, they were a breath too slow. Archer's arrow whistled from his bow with a deep _thung_. The moment before the air congealed, it struck Shiftstate's shoulder, sending him stumbling back.

Then Saber joined the fray. The tiny blonde bulled through frozen air, shattering Shiftstate's power with her torrential aura. The tiny blonde plowed into Shiftstate, folding him in half on her shoulder. Citrine reached for a small pistol. Archer blurred into motion, throwing the woman into a perfect takedown.

The walls clicked. The now free Caster leapt over Accord's desk. Darts struck Caster's seat with a _pitter-patter,_ two-thirds failing to fire due to my sabotage. The brunette snagged the tiny Thinker and shoved him to the ground with his companions.

"Don't move," Caster ordered.

-oOo-

 _ **Carnwennan** [White Hilt]  
Projected Noble Phantasm – Rank D – Anti-Unit_

 _The dagger with which King Arthur slew the witch Orddu in Welsh legend. When used, the dagger has the power to wrap the user in shadow, moving their existence slightly outside the confines of the world. While not true invisibility, Carnwennan's shroud is not to be disparaged. Eyes slide off the user. Sounds are unheard or forgotten. Revelations of the user's presence are missed whether the target be man, beast, or machine. In totality the granted stealth is equal to Presence Concealment C as wielded by a member of the Assassin class._


	14. Chapter 14

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 14  
** -oOo-

 _Saber sliced through the wall before I could finish my curse, her invisible blade expertly skewering the fragment of debris to set it gently aside. In the same instant, a bow virtually teleported into Archer's hands. My swarm dumped down from overhead. Caster jolted from her seat._

 _Shiftstate was faster. He raised a hand and the air hardened. My bugs froze in empty space, suspended in solid sky. Caster stilled, her form caught half in motion. But, as fast as Shiftstate's reactions were, they were a breath too slow. Archer's arrow whistled from his bow with a deep_ thung _. The moment before the air congealed, it struck Shiftstate's shoulder, sending him stumbling back._

 _Then Saber joined the fray. The tiny blonde bulled through frozen air, shattering Shiftstate's power with her torrential aura. The tiny blonde plowed into Shiftstate, folding him in half on her shoulder. Citrine reached for a small pistol. Archer blurred into motion, throwing the woman into a perfect takedown._

 _The walls clicked. The now free Caster leapt over Accord's desk. Darts struck Caster's seat with a_ pitter-patter _, two-thirds failing to fire due to my sabotage. The brunette snagged the tiny Thinker and shoved him to the ground with his companions._

" _Don't move," Caster ordered._

-oOo-

"Overmind, what is the enemy's response?" Saber demanded, crushing Shiftstate underfoot while fluctuating her aura.

It took me a second to regain my mental footing. No suits were approaching. I didn't need to think to know it. I had long ago sniffed out every scent of gunpowder and marked off all potential threats. Insect brains may be simple, but my swarm could handle that much on its own. But I cast out my mind's eye anyway. There were a lot of minor details my swarm didn't pick up and I wanted to be sure.

Switchup and the guards outside Accord's door didn't so much as blink.

"None," I answered. I couldn't keep the incredulity from my tone. "No response at all."

I scanned Accord's office.

Matters were well in hand. Caster loomed over Accord, pressing the Thinker against the ground with her right knee. The brunette was taller than Accord. Surprising given both her gender and ethnicity. Archer was two meters away. The redhead pressed a pair of fingers into Citrine's brow before suddenly slashing his hand to the left. The woman's tense form collapsed into slumber. Archer flipped the Shaker over, secured her with plastic cuffs, then moved swiftly towards Shiftstate.

I wondered briefly why he didn't use projected restraints. Projection was pretty much the definition of Archer's thing, and plastic cuffs had weaknesses. Then it it occurred to me that relying on magecraft to restrain a cape whose power could neutralize powers was probably a bad idea.

"And that, Overmind, is the problem with good sound proofing," Tattletale teased.

The freckled blonde sauntered into the room through the porthole Saber had cut. She gave Accord a cheeky smile before plopping her butt on the corner of the Thinker's desk, scattering assorted knickknacks with her rear end. I didn't miss Accord's scowl or how Tattletale's grin widened.

Really? I almost shook my head. Tattletale was so incredibly petty.

"Hold him up would you. I'll look him over for tricks and traps," Tattletale said, her tone all business.

Now it was Caster's turn to shoot the girl a dirty look. The brunette huffed then jerked Accord to his feet.

"That would be lovely," Caster said. Then the brunette shoved the enemy Thinker toward the blonde knight. "If you would."

Saber caught Accord and finally let him stand up straight. Accord took the opportunity to straighten his tie and brush off his suit.

 _Reee._

Caster swung Accord's chair around, legs scratching against tile with a shrill screech. The brunette dropped into the seat, one arm over the back and legs folded like a prim princess. It made for an odd contrast. Sophisticated elegance meshed with a commanding ease. I wondered if Caster did it on purpose, or if the clash merely represented two emergent aspects of the brunette's personality.

Tattletale cast her eyes over the tiny Thinker.

"Front right pocket and left sleeve. And take the cane," Tattletale said lightly from her place on the desk. She paused, then flashed a smug grin. "Oh, and snag that watch of his too."

Saber nodded then began patting down Accord with exceedingly professional motions. Against expectation, Accord found Saber's efficiency relaxing. While the blonde knight worked him over, I took a second to admire the Thinker's wooden mask and the way it efficiently displayed his every emotion.

"That has no value," Accord suddenly interrupted when his watch was taken. "As the girl well knows."

Saber paused, antique pocket watch in hand. The blonde knight gave Tattletale a look. Tattletale returned a smug smile.

"Unnecessary rudeness is unbecoming," Saber warned, returning the watch.

Tattletale had the decency to look sheepish. Saber stepped away from Accord and set a pair of mechanical devices, along with a short knife, on the desk. Then the blonde knight retook a position at his side, quiet and threatening.

"Thank you," Accord said, nodding in the blonde knight's direction. "Very professional. I respect that. Though some members of your team could use a lesson on etiquette."

"Teenagers," Caster sighed, making a _what can you do_ gesture. "I'm sure you understand."

"Exactly!" Tattletale confirmed with a grin.

Her gaze turned to me knowingly. I glowered on behalf of my age group. Not all of us were that bad.

"Unfortunately, I do," Accord replied. The diminutive Thinker's nose scrunched. He took a moment to smooth out a wrinkle on his otherwise flawless white suit. "There is a reason I prefer more experienced assistants."

"And just imagine how things might have turned out if you had instead selected for ability," Tattletale retorted cheekily, gesturing toward the room.

Accord's mask shifted to an expression that was impressively baleful.

" _Ahem._ Now that we are settled, I think it is time we resume our prior discussion," Caster said lightly, as though nothing had happened. She fixed the Thinker opposite with heavenly smile. "I believe you were going to give me some information?"

Accord's gaze switched back to the brunette.

"I think not," he retorted.

Archer moved in the background. The redhead lifted the circular porthole cut from the wall and pressed it back into place. A quiet incantation escaped his lips, then prana spread out in glowing lines, melding the material into the wall.

"Oh?" Caster sounded, brow raised. "Do you really think you have a choice in this matter?"

Accord's expression went blank, the mechanisms of his mask beautifully conforming to the coutures of his face. His hands twitched. I got the impression he wanted to set them on his cane. Instead he carefully folded them behind his back.

"I'll admit, the effectiveness of your infiltration took me off guard. In every way, your team has exceeded my expectations. In the future, I will adjust my security measures. It seems I have put far too much stock in elegance where I instead should have relied on force."

Accord spoke, the very picture of confidence. If I hadn't witnessed Archer and Saber putting down his aides a moment ago, I would have thought that Accord controlled the room.

"However...," Accord stretched the word, his mask moving to match his smug smile. "It appears that you have made a most unfortunate error."

"Fuck," Tattletale cursed.

My eyes shot to Tattletale, who was now wearing a grimace.

"Damn it. I knew I was missing something," Tattletale complained. She looked at Caster. "Gaslight isn't just a Blaster. He's a Striker. He steals the memories he uses as ammunition."

"Ah, so she does have her uses," Accord commented with disparaging politeness. "Your servant is correct. Gaslight excised key details before I called this meeting. At this time, he should be enjoying a well earned vacation in Havanna. I do hope he finds it relaxing. It is all too rare that I can properly reward my employees for their hard work."

Caster scowled and unfolded her legs. She looked back at the freckled blonde. "Anything we can do?"

Tattletale shook her head. "The effect has to be temporary or Accord would never have allowed it. But it'll be days before Accord gets his memories back. And that's assuming Gaslight can't control when and if they are returned."

"Nothing stopping us from kidnapping him," I pointed out.

"Which will gain you nothing," Accord retorted, finally turning to take note of me. The Thinker's gaze lingered for a moment before returning to Caster. "While I admit that it is unlikely that my Ambassadors can free me from your hold, I can ensure that you expend a great deal of resources keeping me in your care."

"Perhaps," Caster said. "But I doubt that your memory wipe is perfect. At the very least, the portions that remain will provide important intelligence. And that's assuming I can't find a way to restore what was taken."

"But it would be hardly worth the effort," Accord countered. "Allow me to propose an alternative negotiation. I go free and the Ambassadors overlook your rudeness. In return, I contact my source on your behalf. Whether they are willing to talk, however, is a matter out of my hands."

"Caster."

Archer suddenly spoke, motioning for the brunette's attention. All eyes switched to him.

"What is it?"

"A safe, buried in the wall. Heavily secured," Archer said.

Caster formed a wicked smile. She stood and sauntered over. Accord observed with keen eyes, his expression giving away nothing.

"Well, what's inside?"

"It's prana resistant," Archer explained, shaking his head. "I'm picking up cash, documents, and a case of some sort, but I can't get a better read."

"Hmm, it must be what they call tinker-tech then," Caster noised thoughtfully.

"It's trapped," Tattletale added. She gave the safe a look over. "Yep. Definitely trapped. I'd put the odds at just short of one-hundred percent."

"Is that a problem? Can't Archer just make a key or something?" I piped up.

Rather than answer, Archer hit a hidden latch then swung a painting away from the wall. Bulky, gray metal greeted my sight, embedded with lines of powered light. The safe was huge, half as wide as I was tall. No key hole. No combo lock. Just a hand lever and a lit touch screen interface covered in interlocking blocks. After the space of ten seconds, all the shapes shifted.

"A puzzle lock?" I asked in disbelief. Really? Who does things like that?

"Yeah," Tattletale answered. She was wearing an unexpected grimace. "And to make things worse, the puzzle was specifically designed so that it can only be solved with Accord's power. I can break it too, but not before the puzzle flips over to the next set."

"How convenient," Caster mused. Her eyes turned toward Accord.

"Thinker powers require an active mind to utilize," Accord countered smoothly. "If you wish to hypnotize me into opening that safe, I cannot stop you, but I can say with confidence that if you do neither of us will ever touch what is inside."

"You are exceedingly well informed," Caster said, sounding annoyed.

"I place great stock in information," Accord explained. "Placing moles in the PRT goes without saying, and Dragon's research into your Master power has been exceptional."

I frowned. "Can we tear it out? Cut it open? Use magecraft?"

"Not a chance," Tattletale said. "Accord is good at what he does. Move this baby and _poof_ everything is gone. Breach it and say sayonara to all the goodies inside."

Caster let out an unhappy sigh. "Can you at least read the documents?"

"It'll be tricky." Archer didn't sound confident.

Caster pinched her nose. I got the faint impression that all these obstacles were giving her a headache.

"Use Structural Analysis to grasp the documents. Project long lasting copies of what you can. We'll photocopy them later. When you're done, I'll hypnotize Accord into opening the safe for us," Caster ordered.

The brunette turned to Accord, eying him thoughtfully. Accord met her gaze without fear.

"I will not cooperate willingly."

"Then let us skip the pretense," Caster replied, dropping all politeness.

Caster's eyes lit with a sharp, blue hue. Accord froze, helplessly drawn into her grasp. While she worked, Archer pressed a hand against the safe, circuits of prana sinking into the metal. The redhead's brow was scrunched in concentration. After half a minute, he produced one page, then a second.

There was nothing for me to do.

I flicked my consciousness into my swarm. Bugs scanned the building. Switchup was at his desk, looking over a reports. He gestured, sending a pair of suits out on patrol. They passed the guards outside Accord's office, nodding to their fellows none the wiser. I kept half an eye on them while checking on the third floor security office. All the suits inside were asleep and the computer system untouched.

Good.

But I wasn't so naive as to think it would remain that way. Sooner or later, someone would stumble upon our intrusion.

"You can take a look if you want."

Archer's gruff voice interrupted my thoughts. I jumped, startled. Thankfully, my costume hid my tension. I took a moment to calm before answering.

"I won't cause problems?"

"As long as you don't mix your prana with mine," Archer replied.

Archer's smile was teasing. Oh. I see. This bastard did that on purpose. I gave Archer a grumpy look then set my hand against the safe. " _Structural Analysis._ "

My prana pushed into the metal. This wasn't my first experience with prana resistant materials. I had worked with biologicals before. Mostly bugs. Which, given my power set, probably wasn't the most representative example.

The walls of the safe were thick and heavy. It felt as though I were pushing through sludge. The information fed back by my thaumaturgy was murky. Clouded to the point that I picked up almost nothing at all. That Archer could pierce that veil and sense what was inside was a testament to his incredible skill with this mystery.

There was no way in hell I could pull that off.

But it didn't mean I couldn't learn. This was an opportunity. A chance to hone my magecraft against an unexpected obstacle. So I delved in, studying the outer layer of the safe instead of the inner. The walls resisted my prana. Heavy. Like a marsh. The machinery was not half as strong. My prana flowed into the touchscreen display, tracing through circuits and wires. Resistors. Capacitors. Tiny, complicated things.

Then I touched it.

 _Memory._

An alien sensation crawled down my spine. An eldritch echo. Unknowable. Incomprehensible. But familiar. I had sensed something like it when I brushed against Tattletale's mind during Hypnosis practice. But this feeling was weaker. More foreign. Like nothing I had experienced before.

I paused.

My breath stilled. A mad inkling crossed my mind. Could I connect? Twist my power so that it fit into these circuits? Caster had described my power as the suborning of minds. The copying of my intent into the consciousness of my swarm. And what was a computer but an empty mind?

Yet... this ephemeral connection felt wrong. _Unnatural_.

I hesitated. I looked at Archer, whose eyes were focused in concentration. Fluttering motes of prana poured from his left hand then folded into paper, dark letters slashing across the surface like rays of light. It was the third such page in half as many minutes. I gazed at Caster, who held Accord in her enchantment.

What was I waiting for?

I didn't join Unit 09 to be useless. Sitting here, doing nothing, that wasn't who I was. Using Accord to open the safe was a long shot. How could my power make things any worse? Mental justifications in place, I squared my shoulders and reached out.

Prana touched metal. Connection. A bond formed, bridging the gap between computer and _me_. Mind, essence, and – if Caster was to be believed – soul became integrated. One unit. One machine.

" _Anfang Käfer_."

I whispered, putting myself into a light trance. Distractions dropped away. My thoughts became focused. Carefully, I constructed a packet of intent. Open. Unlock. Thoughts and ideas took shape much like the command _sleep_ I had sent straight into Tattletale's brain. I held informational nodule for a moment. Then I twisted my power and readied to forced the thought down my fragile bridge.

Resistance.

I winced. A visceral sensation, akin to the sound a circular saw made when it cut through metal, crawled down my spine. My power warbled. The prana in my circuits seemed to bunch up, then swell like a balloon. This wasn't the first time I had altered my power. I had often traded for range, power, or control. This was different. Then, the counterforce had been soft, elastic, bendable. This was hard. Like glass.

But I was stubborn. I twisted harder.

Resistance broke. It took a single instant to realize I had made a horrible mistake.

 _Pain_. Searing agony shot through my nerves as though I had swallowed broken glass. The shards sliced down my circuits, flowing with my prana until they touched the bond I created.

It was like grabbing a live wire.

 _34 cf 3f 85 6f aa be a4 0c a9 36 81 57 9f 7e 88  
64 5b 76 bb bf 7f 3c 20 3c 7e a7 e1 a7 73 94 2b  
94 29 0f 31 0f 23 6a 57 6c f5 e6 63 f7 b5 50 bb  
c4 f9 34 1f 5f d4 72 da 9c ce 23 f9 47 a6 fa cf  
f4 8b da af af d3 f9 ce cc c9 d4 a8 97 84 d1 9d  
24 a0 ba 50 ff 60 1a 35 fc a6 b8 73 e7 90 0c 2a  
54 f6 57 26 4f bc 67 0c 2c 26 d6 56 37 0b db 5f_

Raw information hit like a fist. A shrill cacophony. Except it wasn't a sound but rather an irresistible, treacherous noise poured directly into my brain without intervening steps. A terrible shriek cascaded through my soul. There was no filter. No way to resist. My vision went white. My body numb. My mind flailed against an incomprehensible sea of data in utter panic.

I felt as though I were drowning.

Then, suddenly, the bond was cut off.

"-mind!"

I gasped. It wasn't just my ears, my entire consciousness was ringing. Half my body was numb. _d7 60 f2 8c 59 38 67 d1_. Numbers rolled, not across my vision, but the root of my existence. I shuddered, nerves trembling with unfathomable concepts. A pressure weighed down on me. Heavy. Crushing.

A bolt of terror shot through my heart. Instinctively, I struggled.

I may as well have tried to bend steel bars.

"Don't move, you'll hurt yourself," an barely intelligible voice interrupted.

Who? I struggled to think. Memory slipped into place. Boston. Accord. The Safe. I blinked. The light was searing. It burned into my retinas in the form of infinitesimal numbers. _22 68 65 6c 6c 6f 22 2e 0d 0a 0d_. My eyes strained against the fuzz. Archer and Caster came into focus.

"You idiot!" Caster's face loomed over me. Furious. "I told you to never try a new mystery without oversight."

"You can lecture her later," Archer reprimanded. He patted me on the shoulder. "Are you alright?"

I groaned. The numbers were fading. Pins and needles swept over my body. Limbs trembling, I moved. My left side responded better than my right. Somehow, I sat up.

I blinked again. "Sorry, I didn't expect..."

I winced. My head was pounding.

"Door's open," Tattletale interjected.

The freckled blonde pulled on the safe's handle in emphasis. The heavy door swung wide, giving us all glimpse what was inside. Tattletale flashed a broad grin. I got the strange impression that this was her way of letting me know that I didn't completely fuck up.

Somehow, it didn't make me feel a whole lot better.

Caster's eyes gleamed as they were sucked to the safe. I could see the greed twinkling inside.

In the fog of my mind, a thought occurred to me.

"Uh," I noised. "Where's Accord?"

Caster and Archer froze. I swung my gaze, head still filled with murk. Belatedly, I realized I should be using my swarm. An instant later, awareness hit as my power provided feedback. Accord was next to his desk, cane in hand. Saber's head was turned the wrong way.

I looked at him. He looked at me. Then he slammed his cane down upon an innocent looking tile.

I didn't so much hear the mechanical click, as feel the machinery shift with my horde. I opened my mouth.

I didn't even have time to yell.

Four steel cords whistled through the walls, slashing across the room in a waist high pattern. Archer's reaction was instant, he jumped, smashing Tattletale against the ground. In the same moment, Saber turned and sliced through whipping steel. The cord broke, sending flickering ends cascading away from our group.

One struck Accord in the chest.

The sheer mass of the metal smashed the Thinker off his feet. Blood bubbled up from a shallow wound, staining his pure white suit. An alarm blared with deafening thunder. Saber glanced at our foe then back stepped in favor of guarding her companions.

Which gave the newly awakened Shiftstate just enough time to roll to Accord's side.

A touch and the two fell through the floor. Half-a-second later, Accord's guards burst into the room.

"Grab everything!" Caster shouted over the cacophony.

Gunfire sounded. Bullets deflected off Saber's sword and armor in a shower of sparks. The tiny knight stepped forward, dominating the angle of fire. Caster retorted with Gandr, dropping a suit faster than I could blink. The second ducked back into cover.

" _Eiswand,"_ the magus chanted. A sudden blockade of ice covered the doorway.

"My apologies," Saber said. "I allowed myself to be distracted."

"No, it was my fault," I replied, struggling to stand. My legs were numb and leadened. "Switchup plus fifteen suits inbound. I'll hold them off."

All five of my secondary circuits _hurt,_ but that didn't effect my power at all. With a mental flick, I sent my swarm out to attack. Black waves poured out through the air vents and the gaps in the ceiling tiles. The horde descended upon every suit on the third floor, coating them in a chitinous mass. There was no point being subtle now. The more chaos I could cause, the better.

"We require an egress," Saber stated. She followed her statement by smashing open the window to Accord's office. "Archer, will this suffice?"

"Give me a moment," the redhead replied, helping Tattletale to her feet.

Once the blonde was settled, Archer projected a duffle bag and a wooden case then dropped them beside the safe. Caster and Saber peeled away to load the loot. Documents, cash, precious metals, and a metal briefcase were stuffed away and zipped up quickly. Saber threw the heavy pack over her shoulder.

"I will be the least burdened," Saber explained. She turned to me. "Overmind, what are the enemy's movements."

"I have most of the suits pinned down with my swarm. Accord, Shiftstate and one guard just exited the building in a dark luxury vehicle. Switchup, with four suits backup, is outside the door carrying a –"

 _Crack!_

Something heavy smashed into Caster's ice wall, throwing shards of ice off its surface. The brunette magus gave the barrier a glance then hurried to Citrine. The Shaker struggled groggily against her restraints. Caster pinned the woman in place with a knee, eyes flaring blue to put Citrine out for the rest of the fight.

Thudding gunshots crashed into the icewall like a battering ram. Cracks spread across the surface. I peeled an arm of insects away from my swarm and set them on Switchup. Cockroaches poured down his black suit while spiders dropped upon his head in waves. Switchup went wild with the distraction. The shots stopped, but now the rest of the suits were able to organize.

"Security room is waking up," I added absently.

"Any day now," Caster grumbled, sounding irritated.

Without a word, Archer summoned a zweihander then slammed it into the ground, straight through the metal supports. He frowned at Tattletale, who was half limping.

"You hurt?"

"A little banged up, but otherwise okay," Tattletale replied, flashing an easy smile. "Thanks for the save."

Archer nodded, flashing another look of concern my way before driving a second blade through the floor. Saber tugged at each weapon before giving Archer a satisfied nod. The redhead projected a rope then looped it around both hilts.

"I shall take point," Saber declared before jumping out of sight.

Caster grabbed me below the chest. It was almost embarrassing how easily she lifted me off the ground.

"Hold tight," Caster commanded.

That was all the warning I got before Caster jumped off the side of the building.

Rope hissed through Caster's gloves. The earth surged up on us. Despite experiencing things like this several times now, I couldn't help but cringe. Rope snapped. With a tug we slowed. Then, with a final jolt, we hit the ground. Tattletale and Archer followed a moment later, projected rope dissolving into motes.

Part of my swarm dove down behind us. The bugs whirled around our group, forming a crude screen.

We had landed on a sidewalk exposed to the main street, just outside the front door to Accord's building. Traffic, thankfully, was light and the nearest pedestrians cleared out quickly in the face of obvious parahuman powers. Despite that a growing crowd of gawkers formed on the sidewalk opposite, pointing and shouting. A few raised their phones to record the event.

I felt momentary panic. My swarm would help hide our features, but against a multitude of frames that was useless. Yeah, I knew Caster and Archer didn't care. They had no family to threaten and their house was a fortress. Caster might even relish the excuse to spit on the unwritten rules. But I had no such protections and somebody might be able to tie them to me.

Like, say, _my_ _D_ _ad._

Then I remembered the white-hilted knife tucked into my belt. My circuits _burned_ as I fed the dagger a thin line of prana.

A shroud of shadow fell over our group one by one. I redirected my swarm, using it to draw the eyes of the gawkers and hopefully those of any malicious witnesses. With our group hidden by thaumaturgy, Saber took the lead, guiding us down a path opposite the one my insects had taken. A moment later, we were in the alley with Saber's motorcycle. The minute after, I was behind Saber clinging to her back as we whistled down the streets. I didn't say anything. My head was still fuzzed with static. That, and I wanted to enjoy my time in the backseat _without_ falling off.

I breathed a sigh of relief when we pulled into the parking garage. I half stumbled off Saber's bike. The blonde knight watched me with worry.

"Are you not well?"

"I'm fine," I waved off. Rather than stand, I decided to sit on the sedan's trunk.

Saber's eyes narrowed. "I am familiar with Shirou's tendency to stubbornly insist he is unburdened. I hope you are not so foolish as to continue his endeavor."

I winced. Okay, toughing it out and not sharing with my team was kind of stupid. The kind of stupid that could get someone hurt.

"I'm a little dizzy and my legs are numb," I admitted.

Saber nodded, but her gaze remained strict.

"You will inform Rin of your injury and bear her censure," Saber commanded. "Wounds to the spirit are not as easily healed as those of the flesh. I expect you to take greater care in the future, so as not to worry your companions."

I winced. In truth, Rin's initial warnings had slipped my mind. A magus walks with death. As the saying went, once bitten twice shy. I wouldn't forget it again.

"I will. I'd rather not endure that a second time."

I shuddered. I could still feel phantom numbers crawling in my brain. The shrill pain as my mind contorted and stretched. Compared to that, a little dizziness and numbness was next to nothing.

Not that it'd stop me if taking action if I felt it was necessary. But I wasn't about to start splitting hairs.

"Then you are already wiser than Shirou," Saber said, sounding pleased. "I will leave the rest of this matter in Rin's care."

"You will leave what in my care?" a pleasant voice interrupted.

Caster – or Rin I supposed – sauntered into the parking garage, already stripping away the obvious parts of her costume. Saber opened the back seat and popped the trunk, giving the brunette magus a chance to unload the spear and duffle bag she was carrying, along with her red shawl. Rin threw on a light jacket, hiding her breast plate before giving the two of us a friendly smile.

"Since the incident with the safe, Taylor has been experiencing dizziness and numbness," Saber explained promptly.

Rin put a hand on her hip. "Taylor, you should have told us that before you got on the back of Saber's bike. I would have carried you."

Yeah, which was half the reason I didn't say anything. Being toted around in human hands was as embarrassing as it was uncomfortable. I'd rather risk falling off Saber's 'steed'.

"What's this about?" a deep voice sounded.

The last of our party, Archer and Tattletale, appeared. The two peeled away their costumes in a dark corner of the garage before slipping into civilian clothes, Archer – now Shirou – taking far less time than Lisa. Yep. It was official. Next time I made a costume, I was designing it so that I could do a quick switch up and blend with the locals.

"Taylor damaged her circuits with that little stunt of hers," Rin huffed.

Not waiting for anyone to say something more, the brunette strode over and pressed a hand against my back. I grit my teeth as her prana slipped into my flesh, but made no move to resist. Rin let out a sigh.

"How bad is it?" I hissed.

"Whatever you did pressurized one of your circuits so bad that you blew the line," Rin stated. Her blue eyes narrowed into slits. "I trust you've learned from this bout of idiocy?"

"Yeah, I did." I didn't even summon up a scowl at the brunette's insult.

"Good," she said sharply. "The reason you're numb is because prana flows along nerves in the same way it flows through circuits. In this case, the excess energy ran through your spine. Keep that in mind, Taylor, because while thaumaturgy can heal a lot of things, it can't heal what's up here." Rin marked her words by poking me hard on the forehead. "And next time you might not be so lucky as to limit the damage to less important parts of your nervous system."

"I'll remember," I grumbled, rubbing the spot the brunette poked. I was all too aware that without Avalon, my spinal cord definitely wouldn't qualify as 'less important'.

"Don't worry about it too much. Mistakes happen," Shirou said, setting a comforting hand on my shoulder. "What's important is that you're alive and you'll recover."

Rin set a hand on her hip and glared at her partner. "Don't encourage her."

Shirou frowned. "She wants to be a hero," he said, as though that explained everything.

I flushed. It was a little embarrassing, hearing that from somebody else mouth.

"That doesn't mean she should be reckless," Rin shot back.

"Okay. I hate to break this up, but we _really_ shouldn't be standing around for an extended period of time," Lisa interjected. The freckled blonde gave me a wink to let me know she was bailing me out. "We aren't far from the Ambassadors' initial meeting point and, if they are searching for where we might have disembarked, this is an obvious place to look."

"Lisa's words are wise," Saber added, throwing in her support.

Rin sighed then groused, "You just want lunch."

"I know not of what you speak," Saber said while making an effort to look affronted.

"There is a little seafood restaurant near the coast that I've heard good things about," Shirou commented, keys dangling from his hand.

Rin snatched them before he could slip into the driver's seat. "I'm driving."

Shirou gave her a questioning look.

"We distribute labor, remember?" Rin said, glaring at the redhead. "And don't you _dare_ say anything about a man's job. I'm not in the mood."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Shirou said carefully. "It's just..."

"Just what?" Rin challenged.

"Do you even know where we're going?"

"Eh?" Rin froze, eyes widened. Her face slowly colored.

Shirou let out a sigh and walked around to the passenger side. "I'll provide directions."

"I'll follow from behind," Saber said firmly. The blonde knight had a light smile and jump to her step.

Lisa and I loaded into the back of the sedan. The space was cramped, thanks to the duffle bag Rin dumped onto the middle seat between us. Lisa wasted no time unzipping the top. The freckled blonde skipped over the scattered treasures and went straight for the wooden box. It was only after placing the box on her lap that the Lisa started looking through the remaining contents.

"Hey, Taylor, help me sort through this," she said, brushing aside a stack of hundreds. "There's a fifty-fifty chance Accord left a tracker in his box full of goodies."

"I already took care of it," Shirou asserted, breaking away from his quiet discussion with Rin.

"And put your seatbelt on," Rin instructed from up front.

After pulling her seat forward, Rin checked her mirrors. A minute later we were pulling away from our spot and heading out of the parking garage. Saber's motorcycle roared to life, trailing just behind us.

"You do know that I ride around town on a monster dog, right?" Lisa pointed out.

"Seatbelt," Shirou asserted.

Lisa made an exasperating show of buckling herself in while under Shirou's firm gaze. Once he turned around, the freckled blonde shot me a brilliant smile.

"We're teenage supervillians, so _of course_ we have to deal with super powered adults," she lamented.

I gave Lisa a weird look. I had the funny feeling she purposefully got herself into trouble just so she could commiserate. And there was Lisa's vulpine smile. Letting me know that she knew I knew. Ugh. _Thinkers._

"Superhero," I corrected, pointing at myself. I refused to play along with her game.

Okay, I refused to _completely_ play along.

Lisa laughed. "Keep telling yourself that. I'm sure the PRT will buy it any minute now."

I scowled.

"Can you hand me those papers," Shirou asked from up front.

Our playful discussion fell to the wayside. Lisa opened the wooden box and shuffled through a stack of documents. She handed one set to the redhead before claiming the rest for herself.

I glanced at Rin. The brunette was obscured by the chair in front of me, but I could catch a glimpse of her expression in the rear view mirror. I tried to judge her mood from the image. I knew Rin would want to hear the details of what I had done, but I wasn't sure if she was more angry or curious. After a moment, I decided to avoid further discussion.

I had enough of a headache as it was.

Instead, I shuffled through the duffle bag Rin left in the back. Along with the metal briefcase, there were a lot of little treasures. Stacks of cash. Tens of thousands of dollars at the least. A pile of jewels was packed into a little black bag. My eyes stopped on a bar of gold.

I couldn't help myself. It was a bar of gold. I just had to hold it. The metal was heavy, cold. It was magical. I knew it was stupid. The gold probably wasn't worth much more than the cash lying around in the duffle bag, but it _felt_ special. Like a childhood dream made real. An actual bar of gold, sitting in my hands.

I wanted Dad and Mom to hide it for me before hunting it down with Emma.

My gut clenched. Mom was dead. Emma... Emma was gone. I didn't want to do anything with that bitch anymore. The dream was tainted. I felt empty. Disgusted. Angry. Why did I think about her _now_? I had put Winslow, Emma, and the rest of the trio behind me.

I would never have to deal with them again.

"Something bothering you?" Lisa asked.

"Nothing," I answered, shaking my head. I put the gold back in the duffle bag and looked again.

This time I brushed past the valuables then snagged the metal briefcase. No lock, but it took me a second to work the clasps. The lid opened. I froze.

Two metal canisters were set in black foam. Each was engraved with an upside down Omega. But, that wasn't what stuck in my mind. Instead, what captured me was the first line written on the paperwork set into the case's lid. _Congratulations on your newly purchased super powers_. Simple. Bold. Brazen. A single sentence that revealed the sheer banality of the dealings.

…

I stared. For long seconds I was devoid of words. How could I possibly describe the absurdity of what I was seeing?

"Well," I said, starting slowly. "I think we can safely say that Accord is connected to the Dealer."

"What is it?" Lisa asked, leaning to peer in. "Holy sh –"

 _Bang!_

Metal crumbled in a thunderous shock, underscored by the tinkling of shattered glass. The sedan suddenly veered, brakes slamming down at the same moment. Tires screeched. My seatbelt tightened. My shoulder slammed into the door on my left while the briefcase flew from my lap, lid slapping closed as it impacted Rin's seat.

What the hell?

I shook my head then twisted. I caught sight of an armored bus racing past. The windows were sealed with shutters and the walls reinforced by welded steel. The sides and top were covered in spikes, many of which bore skulls and rotting heads.

The vehicle plowed through oncoming traffic, smashing cars aside with a front mounted cow catcher. The traffic that, _just one second ago_ , had been behind us. Then the bus turned. Rubber shrieked against asphalt. The vehicle titled, two wheels rising off the road surface as it completed its corner.

To repeat. What the hell?

"Rin," Shirou said sharply, shaking me from my daze.

"Not our problem," Rin retorted. The brunette threw the gear into reverse.

"Rin," Shirou insisted again. Louder.

"Fuck, that was the Teeth," Lisa murmured.

"I'm not hearing any sirens," I noted, looking around for any sign of police or PRT presence.

That, apparently, was all Shirou needed to hear. The redhead practically kicked open the passenger side door before lunging out of it. With one smooth motion Shirou tossed aside his jacket before pulling a copy of his gray overcoat from thin air. The redhead dashed forward with incredible speed, fast enough to run down the bus.

On foot.

"Damn it," Rin cursed. "Saber!"

Her shout wasn't needed. The blonde knight had already wheeled her motorcycle around and gunned the engine. The bike let out a deep, guttural roar then surged forward.

"My lance," Saber commanded, as she reached the redhead's side. Her clear voice carried flawlessly over the din.

Archer paused then tossed the girl a spear. He gave the knight a nod before shooting up the side of a building. Saber grasped her weapon then pressed down harder on the accelerator. She rocketed down the roadway, veering around the corner at a velocity so sharp, her armored skirt touched pavement.

"Shit!" Rin cursed again, unbuckling her seatbelt.

The brunette leaned across the passenger seat and pulled the door closed. _Slam!_ The door hit so hard I jumped. There was no question how pissed Rin was. Rolling the wheel, Rin hit the gas. The sedan surged back with such force my face almost planted itself into the driver's side seat. The duffle bag rolled off the middle seat. Gold bars hit the floorboards with a heavy _thunk_.

Then Rin switched gears and gunned the engine.

We shot into an intersection at a terrifying pace. Rin wheeled the car to the right. The suspension groaned. I could feel the sedan slide sideways as traction broke. _Honk honk!_ A horn sounded as we flew onto the four lane street dangerously close to the truck behind us.

"Taylor, where are they!" Rin barked from up front.

"About a block and a half ahead, running parallel with us," I answered in a snap.

Finding Saber and Archer took less than a second. I had long since developed a habit of planting bugs on my allies and now it paid dividends. Locating the bus took a few moments longer. Insects were everywhere, and there were more than a few in the armored bus. I used a pair of flies to get the gist of the situation. Position, velocity, and a head count.

But if I wanted to help, I needed to do more than that.

Which meant, I needed more bugs.

Which was tricky. A lot of insects could fly, but most weren't fast. Most weren't slow, either. The world record holder for quickest flight was the horsefly. During mating activities, the horsefly could surge to speeds as high as one-hundred and fifty kilometers per an hour. But that was a special case. Ordinary insects capped out at below fifty kilometers per an hour.

Moving a swarm at that pace, needless to say, was impossible.

Compared to a car, that velocity was a joke. The armored bus was going ten to twenty over the limit. Even forming a swarm at our current speeds was difficult. My range naturally stretched out for a quarter kilometer. A breadth we could cross in twenty seconds.

As for reacting to the bus? I had only five.

Fuck it. _Anfang Käfer_. My circuits lit. I grit my teeth against the searing pain. Prana rippled down my damaged circuit, jumping over the breaks. Sparks flew astray, forming lightning bolts that ran down my spine. My eyes watered. I shifted the flow, cutting off the two paths that were in the worst shape. Agony dulled.

Then I twisted, trading power for range.

The reach of my ability doubled, expanding to a half-a-kilometer radius. I used the broadened elbow room to form clusters of bugs, eyes overlooking the roadways. Insects, by and large, had terrible sight. But by stacking multiple sources of vision I get an image that could be equated to that of a cruddy security camera.

Not great, but good enough.

With a clearer view, I could see the armored bus speed down the road, bulldozing past any vehicle that got in its way. Saber raced up behind it, lance at the ready. Cars proved no obstacle to the blonde knight. Her steed was like a sparrow in flight, fluttering around the traffic with practiced ease.

I was amazed that she hadn't already caught up.

Then I caught the smell of powder. The armored bus rumbled with the dull reverberation of gun shots. A swivel gun was mounted at the bus's top. A man in post apocalyptic leathers handled the weapon, sending short bursts of death in Saber's direction. The blonde knight swerved around the streams of fire, guarding her bike more than body.

Archer shadowed them on the buildings above, leaping across the gaps with impossible strength. He had a bow in hand along with steel arrows, but he seemed to be having trouble getting a good position from which to take a shot.

Of course, the fact he could keep up at all was fucking insane.

"What the hell are they doing?" I asked in disbelief.

This was nuts. I didn't understand the point of this madness. Surely the Teeth knew that acting like this would make the PRT fall on them like a ton of bricks. It didn't make sense.

"Waving the flag," Lisa answered with a grimace. "This is bad. The Butcher's in town."

The freckled blonde pressed her domino mask against her nose, affixing it back into place. I took that as a cue and pulled on my own mask.

"The Butcher?"

The moment the question left my lips, a tall elegant woman exploded into existence beside Saber. The concussive blast sent Saber's motorcycle into a spin. The blonde knight recovered with a short bunny hop, twisting the vehicle in the air underneath her. The tall woman leveled a gatling gun, each barrel as heavy as the one mounted on the bus. She opened fire.

Saber didn't bother to dodge. Not that it would have mattered if she had. The bullets twisted through the air like snakes. Metal smashed into Saber's armor then ricocheted off steel plate. Others met the shaft of the knight's lance. Only two made it past Saber's guard. One took the blonde knight in the arm. The second struck her neck. Skin and muscle gave way with a cascade of blood and flesh.

Saber didn't even pause. With one stroke, she drove her weapon forward. The bladed tip flashed with death. The tall woman's eyes widened. Then she was gone, fire licking that the emptiness she left behind before exploding back into existence atop the armored bus.

The heavy shock made the bus wobble. The tall woman kept her footing. Her gun retorted again, barrels spinning as they unleashed a rain of death.

Pointless.

Saber wasn't human. She was a ghost. Her physical form was nothing more than a prana projection stretched over an astral body. Only powerful thaumaturgy or mystic codes could pierce the veil and reach the ethereal organs hidden beneath. Wounds dealt to Saber's flesh were superficial, no more serious than a deadly attack delivered to Oni-Lee's clones.

The only way a gun could kill Saber was by depleting her prana, and the Teeth would run dry of ammunition long before that happened.

"The Butcher is the leader of the Teeth," Lisa – no Tattletale – explained. The sedan's engine rumbled we flew through traffic. "She's something of a Trump. Each time the Butcher dies, whoever kills her inherits her current power along with all her prior powers. A weaker version, thankfully, or the Butcher would be well on her way to becoming a second Faerie Queen or Eidolon."

My body swayed as Caster swerved between a pair of cars. The duffle bag shuffled, bumping into Tattletale's ankle. The girl winced then leaned down to try and push it beneath the passenger's side chair.

"Let me guess, explosive teleportation along with some sort of funky projectile controlling power?" I asked. Taking a hint from the freckled blonde, I did my best to secure the metal briefcase.

The Butcher's gatling coughed out bursts of fire. The stream of bullets added to the storm unleashed from the gun mounted armored bus's back. Saber's motorcycle danced between the flow, twisting, turning, and swerving with superhuman grace. The blonde knight might be able to ignore bullets, but her steed could not.

A fact the Butcher quickly realized. Fire imploded then exploded. The tall woman vanished from the top of the bus only to reappear at Saber's rear. The Butcher's gatling let out a roar.

That was the moment Archer finally got a good bead.

A metal blade flashed down from the rooftops, piercing straight through the weapon mounted on the armored bus. The henchman manning the weapon stumbled then fell hard into the vehicle's interior. A moment later, a second twisted blade slashed down with silver light. With a _shink,_ the weapon sank deep into the rear wheelwell.

The bus kicked. Metal groaned. The sword snapped. The rear wheel, rim and all, ripped from the bus and started bouncing down the road.

The Butcher looked up, said something, then appeared at Archer's side in a wave of flame and fire.

"Shit. The Butcher's already here?" Tattletale said, responding to my earlier statement. The freckled blonde's gaze snapped to the front. "Caster, whatever happens, those two absolutely can't kill the Butcher. You hear me? They can't kill the Butcher."

"I'll let them know," Caster shot back. _Erreee._ The sedan squealed as she made a sharp turn. "Lisa, get me a path then brief us on the Teeth. Taylor, since you're in range, try to slow them down."

"It isn't easy to form a proper swarm when we're moving this fast," I retorted.

Caster rolled the steering wheel, throwing me left then right as she cut through traffic. Sirens sounded in the distance, gaining with the passing seconds. The gap between our group and the armored bus was shrinking as well.

"Do what you can."

Organizing my eyes was hard enough. How the hell was I going to do anything to that bus? Grimacing, I considered the situation then decided to throw all my useless flier out front. I didn't bother organizing the horde or forming a thick mass. Nor did I worry whether my minions would make it on time. I just sent them careening straight into the armored bus's windshield.

While my bugs pitter-pattered against glass, Saber's bike kicked into high gear. The blonde knight surged forward, gaining on the armored vehicle. As she approached a flickering barrier formed at the bus's rear. The glassy light spread from the vehicle's back, twinkling like giant snow flakes. Saber paused, flared her aura, then smashed right through.

Drawing back an arm, Saber thrust her lance. The bladed tip sliced through metal, sheering away a tire at the axle. The bus jumped as the wheel came free. The Teeth reacted. Someone unrolled a window then shoved a gun and head out. An AK47 opened fire with a _rat-tat-tat_. Saber swayed around the erratic shots, positioning her lance for a second strike.

The bus driver jerked the vehicle in her direction.

Saber's response was instant. The blonde knight hit the brake, fading away faster than I could blink. Saber leaned, vanishing from the driver's view before aggressively reaccelerating on the opposite side. The driver swung his vehicle again. The bus's body wobbled dangerously. Saber feinted back then gunned her engine. Her lance touched rubber. A tire tore apart, dropping the bus's left rear side onto a single set of rims.

The bus's movements became erratic. The vehicle slowed, metal screaming as it was ground away by the pavement. For a moment Saber gave the Teeth some space, awaiting her chance to do to the right what she and Archer had done to the left.

"The Teeth are a multi-city operation," Tattletale said, unbuckling her seatbelt. The freckled blonde stood and started squeezing herself through the middle space and into the front. "The names you need to know are: Spree – clones, Vex – forcefields, Animos – Changer, Reaver – projects slashes, and Hemmorhagia – blood manipulator."

I nodded, committing the short explanations to memory. Then it was Vex who tried to slow Saber down with those glittering barriers. Not that it did much. I shifted my bugs in the bus, trying to find the Teeth capes. Unfortunately, powered and unpowered Teeth dressed an awful lot alike.

While I searched, one of the Teeth kicked open the bus's rear emergency door. He was a lanky man in a rugged costume. The man's outfit was all spikes and leather. All in all, he wouldn't have been miscast in a Mad Max film. The man paused at the aperture then threw himself out.

No wait, I saw that wrong. The cape didn't throw _himself_ out. Instead, a full body clone shot out of the man's chest.

Spree.

Spree's clone wasn't a simple copy. It was a replica, complete with a randomized costume and weapon. The clone hit the pavement in a barely controlled stumble, immediately absorbing a full fourty plus miles per an hour of velocity. The clone's legs ripped from underneath it. It tumbled head over heels. Limbs broke. It's skull cracked. Blood spewed everywhere.

Saber pulled back in shock.

Then came another.

And another.

It wasn't just one or two. Spree shot clones out the back door like bullets fired from a machine gun. They flew half-a-dozen meters before striking ground. The result was a bloody massacre of broken bones and shattered limbs. But a few clones managed to land just right. Those that did hefted their assorted weapons – knives, clubs, guns, anything and everything that could be imagined – then charged at Saber in a wave of madness.

The blonde knight hesitated.

I couldn't fault her. Against that horror show, I wouldn't have known what to do. The gap between motorcycle and armored bus widened. Then Saber's eyes hardened. The blonde knight hit the throttle. Her engine roared. Saber's steed trampled forward, lance hewing through bodies like so much wheat.

But the barrage of clones was unceasing and while they couldn't threaten Saber, the sea corpses were more than enough to hinder her progress.

The armored bus turned a corner, windshield wipers running double time in attempt to clean the muck of guts splattered across their surface.

"They're turning North," I relayed.

"Road please," Caster hissed.

"Just give me a sec," Tattletale was _almost_ settled into the front passenger seat.

"Right. Right now!" I barked.

Caster spun the steering wheel so hard we skidded sideways. Tattletale was thrown into the brunette's lap. Against the squeal and force, I didn't know how Caster retained control, but somehow she managed to avoid spinning out and put us on the right road.

But, unfortunately, not in the correct _lane_.

The sedan jerked left, passing a yellow taxi so close that its front bumper scrapped against our rear right fender. The sedan fishtailed with the impact, which Caster somehow finagled into a twist that threw us back into the lane the taxi previously occupied the instant before we would have smashed into a garbage truck head on.

Without the slightest hesitation, Caster jumped the median then slewed back into traffic.

"Ow, ow, ow," Tattletale whined from the front. "Okay, I'm never complaining about seatbelts again."

"Quiet," Caster snapped. "I need to concentrate."

I could see the armored bus cresting a hill almost a two blocks away. Bodies flew from the back like flames spat from a macabre rocket. Sirens blared. A pair of PRT vans pulled into view a single intersection ahead of us. They slowed briefly before a hole opened in the frozen traffic ahead. A flying cape rounded the corner with them, leaving trails of silver light.

"Ugh. Spree left us a disgusting mess," Tattletale noted, sounding appalled. The freckled blonde spared a moment to buckle herself in. "Watch out, traffic is piling up and is about to get a whole lot worse."

"I know."

I could practically hear the smirk in Caster's tone. That was all the warning I had before she crossed the median a second time and voluntarily dived into the traffic flowing the wrong way.

That was when everything went wrong.

Two tires blew out on separate cars just as they crossed the intersection ahead. The vehicles span out control, slamming into each other to form an almost perfect interlocking barricade. No time. I cringed and braced myself for impact. But Caster's reactions were faster than my own. The brunette threw the wheel to the left. The sedan screamed, then slid sideways riding on two smoking wheels for a full dozen meters.

Briefly, we stood at a standstill.

"Those were gun shots!" Tattletale shouted, confirming my gut suspicion.

Without a word, Caster slammed her foot down on the gas, accelerating dangerously fast down a narrow one-way road.

Who? I cast my awareness about, but if the sniper was in range I'd surely have picked up the gun smoke the moment the weapon retorted.

That's when I saw it.

"Above!"

Four lumps of concrete fell from the sky, almost as though thrown from a catapult. They smashed into the road behind us, crushing the surface before shattering into smaller hunks. More chunks of material were ripped off the rooftops around us, then pulled into a spiral whirl in the heavens above. Shaker. But where the fuck was the cape?

Shit. No time for that.

"They're sealing us in!" I warned.

Caster kept the accelerator pressed against the floor. But whoever was controlling the rocks was faster than we were. An avalanche of debris fell down, filling the long path at the other end. It wasn't a small pile either, but rather a mountain of rubble completely covering the road ahead of us. Caster stomped on the breaks. My gut lurched into my heart. We came to a halt two score meters away from the obstacle blocking our path.

"Who is it? I can't find them," Tattletale demanded, twisting and craning her neck to try and spot the cape.

"He's right in front of you," Caster said plainly. Her expression was grim.

In front? I looked forward. Nothing. My circuits throbbed. This feeling... I knew this feeling. I had practiced against a similar sensation on the road trip to Boston. Hypnosis. Except it wasn't. No, this was an entirely different form of mental interference that followed similar principles.

A Stranger. And apparently, Caster could resist.

Which meant, so could I.

Before I could try, the faint pressure vanished. A jet black shape wavered into focus, as though a veil had been parted. He floated above the mountain of debris, whirling rocks surrounding his armor clad form.

His costume was sleek. Professional. A plated suit set over flexible chain mesh. A full helmet hid the cape's face, leaving a somewhat rounded midsection as his only distinguishing feature. By habit, I tried to settle a bug on the cape to mark his position. The insect ran head first into a thin, invisible field.

A felt a chill run down my spine. Tinker-tech. This guy wasn't a bit player. He was a major leaguer. A mover and shaker. A big name. The kind of guy that absolutely shouldn't be here, taking interest in us. Which meant he was here for a reason. And the only reason I could think of was the briefcase jammed halfway underneath Caster's seat.

Then, as if to confirm my thoughts, a mechanized voice crackled over a speaker. It was loud enough to be heard through our closed windows.

"You have something that doesn't belong to you."

-oOo-

 **Dossier: Gaslight  
** Affiliation: Ambassadors  
Classification: Master/Blaster 3  
First Spotted: Boston, January 7th, 2010

Gaslight produces colored beams of light with an effective range of around fifty meters. Armor provides no protection from the blast, but hard cover of at least one inch thickness has proven effective.

Contact with the beam causes disorientation and confusion. Operatives may also experience flashes of memory, often traumatic. Those who have been repeatedly exposed to this power are required by regulation to submit to Master/Stranger containment for a period of twenty-four hours. This requirement may be relaxed during ongoing operation.

It is believed that Gaslight can use his power to communicate with others. This has not been confirmed.

 **Dossier: Switchup  
** Affiliation: Ambassadors  
Classification: Breaker 4; Brute 2 or Mover 3  
First Spotted: Boston, May 16th, 2008

Switchup is a Breaker capable of instantly shifting between two functional states: Brute and Mover. His power also effects hand held items and equipment, including firearms. As such, he is to be regarded as more dangerous than his power may first imply.

In Switchup's Brute state he is both three times as strong and as tough as an ordinary human. His greater strength is the result of increased apparent mass, meaning that in this mode Switchup is harder to move or knock down. In his Mover state, Switchup is three times faster than a normal human. This improvement to speed applies to both physical and mental actions.

Note that Switchup is a highly skilled combatant, believed to have had significant military training. Further, his ability to switch seamlessly between his two states makes him a challenging foe.

 **Dossier: Shiftstate  
** Affiliation: Ambassadors  
Classification: Striker/Shaker 7, Mover 3  
First Spotted: Medford, September 23rd, 2010

Shiftstate is a powerful Shaker. His power can render gaseous materials solid or inorganic solids gaseous. The exact shape of the modified area is subject to Shiftstate's control, but is limited to a zone five meters from the point of contact. To activate his power, Shiftstate must physically touch his target. Shiftstate's power cannot jump conceptual objects.

Objects effected by Shiftstate's power remain altered for a period of twenty-seven minutes, unless overridden by a second application of his power. Altered materials retain relative position, features, and colorization after the use of his power, allowing for pit traps, invisible walls, and other tactical complications.

Gasified solids are traversable. Inhaling this material is impossible, so risks on this factor are null. However, be advised that no oxygen is present within a gasified solid, so suffocation can occur. Prior experience shows that anyone caught within a gasified material when time runs out will be safely ejected.

Solidified gases, no matter their type or origin, obtain a strength and durability characteristic of concrete. This material may be climbed or crossed at will, allowing a limited approximation of flight.


	15. Chapter 15

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 15  
** -oOo-

" _You have something that doesn't belong to you."_

The black suited cape's words hung in the air. A palpable demand filled with the threat of unavoidable conflict. A moment of silence stood between us.

"He doesn't appear to be with the Teeth," Caster observed, casually. She turned toward the freckled blonde. "Do you know him?"

"Short range gravity manipulation plus a Stranger effect? If a cape like that existed, I definitely would have heard of him. Either someone is lending him a power, or there's a second cape acting as support," Tattletale provided.

"I'm not picking up anyone else," I noted. Though we knew for certain that there was a sniper out there. Somewhere.

"Stranger. You might not sense them even if they were standing right next to us," Tattletale pointed out.

I couldn't feel anyone mucking with my head, but I had to admit my skill in that area wasn't particularly refined. It was entirely possible that a Stranger was pulling the wool over my eyes. Of course, if it was a lent power then there might not be anyone to detect.

 _Anfang Ader_. Just in case, I lit up my eight primary circuits and swirled my prana. No change. I turned my eyes to the expert.

Caster said nothing. The brunette just sat there with a polite smile on her lips. For a moment I thought that she was playing it cool. Then it occurred to me that she was talking to Saber and Archer.

 _Crack!_

I jumped. A rock orbiting the dark armored cape flashed forward then shattered against the side of the building next to us.

"This doesn't have to end in violence." The mechanized voice was forceful and full of confidence. There was also a hint of arrogance, leaving me with the impression that the dark armored cape felt this affair was beneath him.

Caster looked at Tattletale. "I don't suppose either of you know how to drive?"

"I'm fifteen," I responded. Nearly sixteen actually, now that I thought about it. Not that it changed anything.

Tattletale looked a little green. "I have a license, but my power is no good in fast situations."

"I see," Caster murmured. Her pleasant mask gave way to a moment of worry. She set a hand on the freckled blonde's shoulder. "Do your best. Straight forward when you get the chance. Saber will meet you halfway."

Taking her hand off Tattletale's shoulder, Caster stepped out the driver's side door. As she left, the brunette drew her crimson spear from sedan's left crevasse. Caster set the weapon on one shoulder then beamed up at the dark armored cape, appearing at a glance much like a normal civilian. Caster's red-shawl was still in the trunk. Her breast plate hidden beneath a jacket. Her skirt and armored leggings? Not all that different from what I'd seen other girls wear.

I was struck by the oddity of it. The clash of cultures. A cape in all regalia against a modern day warrior wearing street clothes.

Of course, I knew the picture was a sham. Even without a mask, Caster's equipment screamed cape through and through.

"I have to apologize, you see, I'm not in the habit of returning the things I've stolen. Perhaps you would like to discuss this over tea?" Caster said, her clear voice sounding impossibly polite and reasonable. "Our objectives are not, so far as I am aware, contradictory. So, should we approach this in a civilized way, I see no reason that we cannot come to a satisfactory agreement...

"That is, assuming you work for the Dealer. If not. Well, I suspect this meeting will end in a far less pleasant manner."

Caster's tone ended dangerously. I looked to the dark armored cape, wondering how he would react. If he was with the Dealer, we'd play nice. But if he was a thief robbing from a thief, he'd be lucky if Caster didn't kill him on the spot.

While Caster spoke, Tattletale unbuckled herself and slipped into the driver's side seat. I took her actions as a cue to better secure the duffle bag and briefcase. Hopefully, if I jammed them in tight enough, they wouldn't fly wild in a crash. Once I was satisfied, I made my own way into the front.

The dark armored cape tilted his head in our direction as we moved before returning his focus to Caster. I got the hint that we were beneath his notice. To Caster's question, he gave no answer. Silence dragged for a long moments. The dark armored cape floated in place with ominous patience.

"He's talking to someone," Tattletale explained, not quietly either. The freckled blonde pulled the driver's side door closed before unrolling the window. I wondered if she did it to hear better or so that our enemy could hear _her_. "And he resents it. He doesn't like taking orders, or maybe he doesn't like the person giving the orders."

"Anything we can use?" I asked, at a whisper. I spread my swarm wide, searching every nook and cranny. Unfortunately, I couldn't catch any hint of the cape's partner.

"Maybe," Tattletale said thoughtfully.

The dark armored cape gave us another glance. Did Tattletale's words annoy him? Even if she did, was attacking him like this a good idea?

"If we want to talk, we will find you," the dark armored cape said finally. "I'm not in the mood for games. Give me the case or I'll take it by force."

Caster frowned.

Tattletale took the chance to chime in. The freckled blonde leaned her head out the window and flashed a vulpine smile. "Let me guess, your boss ordered you to treat us gently. Am I right?"

This time when the dark armored cape's head turned in our direction, he looked irritated.

"I _am_ right, aren't I? The Dealer doesn't want to talk, but he wants us alive. Maybe to talk to in the future. Maybe for something else. So you have to play nice. Be a good little errand boy and do as your told. Pisses you off doesn't? Playing fetch for... and you just adjusted your audio feed to tune me out."

Tattletale sighed and pulled herself back in the car. She turned to me with a shrug.

"Well, I tried."

"No. You did enough," Caster said. The brunette let her spear fall from her shoulder so that the tip brushed the ground. "Knowing that he has to play nice makes things easier. However, it'd be rude if we didn't reciprocate that kindness."

The air around the brunette began to freeze. A deep, bone chilling cold that pierced the soul. Caster's angelic smile shifted just the slightest, becoming wolfish and hungry. The image sent chills down my spine. The words that followed lost all veneer of politeness.

"So, out of a sense fairness, I'll let you know that this spear of mine can inflict instant, unavoidable death. The range is seven paces," Caster offered dangerously. "Or maybe it's twenty. I'll leave you to guess. Whatever the case, it is worth noting that, right now, you are only thirteen paces away."

The dark armored cape stilled. Caster leaned forward. A predator on the balls of her feet. Then, in an instant, she exploded forward. Tattletale stomped on the gas. The car's engine roared. The sedan's seat hit me in the back. Wide-eyed, Tattletale piloted us toward the mountain of debris blocking our path.

The dark armored cape faded back, body accelerating to a blur. There wasn't much choice other than to challenge Caster's psychological trap. That was the point. If this was the Dealer's cape, we didn't want him dead just like he wanted to leave us alive. A fact he understood as well as we did. But Caster's threat couldn't be ignored, so he had to give way to her approach and allow for the maximum reach she proposed.

That, however, didn't mean he was helpless.

Rocks whipped around the dark armored cape before blasting forward in a shotgun burst. Caster responded with lightning reflexes, ducking under scattered rubble. She twisted, boots skidding across asphalt. Her left arm rose. Lights crisscrossed the limb. A pool of darkness formed at the tip of her finger.

A dozen bolts of Gandr fired in retort.

Most of the shots went wild, fracturing stone and shattering brick when they hit the alley wall. Four bolts, though, slewed across the cape's chest. A planar barrier flared to life, spitting out sparks when the atramentous bolts struck.

The dark armored cape jinked to the right, avoiding Caster's narrowing aim. Then he slewed up before flowing back. He slowed. Space fluxed around him, forming a sphere of rippling light. Vortices of distorted air reached out, wrenching hunks of mortared brick from the building's walls. The slabs of rubble orbited the dark armored cape once, gaining velocity as they went. Then they shot out like pitched baseballs.

Caster jolted to her feet, surging forward with superhuman strength. The brunette sailed over the first projectile then ricocheted off the alley walls to avoid two more. Fast. Caster's shocking acceleration exceeded the sedan's. In a blink, she was at our side once more.

But as fast as Caster was, the dark armored cape was faster. He shot back, the distance between him and the brunette expanding with every fraction of a second. More projectiles were ripped from the building as he went. The first, a scattered blast of debris, he directed at Caster. The second, larger mass, he lobbed straight at us.

Caster's hand was already in her utility belt.

But I didn't have time to appreciate it. My face was twisted in hopeless terror. The mountain of debris was rushing up on us. Ten meters. Eight. Faster and faster it came. I clenched the sides of my seat waiting for the inevitable impact.

" _Sturm"_

The word was a whirlwind. A horizontal tempest ripped down the alley in the form of an F5 catastrophe. Signs were stripped from the roadside. The dark armored cape's projectiles were cast about like paper in a hurricane. The gale hit the cape like a truck, throwing him back with incredible force.

And it didn't stop there. The howling winds curled around the sedan like spectral limbs, lifting us upwards and onwards.

And straight into the cross traffic of the road beyond.

"Ah shit," Tattletale noised. The freckled blonde looked as though she were going to throw up.

I wisely clenched my jaw against the ensuing impact.

 _Ca-chung!_ The sedan smashed into the ground. The chassie sank until the suspension bottomed out. Force shot through my spine like a hammer. _Hoonnk! H-honk!_ Horns sounded. Tattletale wrestled with the wheel. We spun out of control, the vehicle rotating four-hundred and twenty degrees. Which, impressively, left us pointing in almost the right direction.

"Whoa," Tattletale sounded. She looked a bit dazed. The freckled blonde blinked then seemed to grasp the situation. "I totally meant to do that."

I wasn't in the mood to appreciate her quip. "Go!"

The dark armored cape had been thrown into a tail spin by Caster's gale, but a handful of seconds was all he needed to recover. Debris swirled around him anew. Caster appeared at the end of the alley, left arm raised as she fired a barrage of shadowy bullets. The dark armored cape floated around them then –

I blanked. My head ached. My circuits throbbed. What was I doing? The car? We were driving somewhere... but, for the life of me, I couldn't remember why.

"Stranger!" Tattletale shouted. The girl didn't waste a second before putting the pedal to the metal.

The kick of eight cylinders jolted my brain into action. Memories flashed through my mind. Debris falling from the sky. Our team caught on that narrow, one way road. Caster stepping out. Projectiles out of nowhere. The rush and escape.

More importantly, I remembered that this was a Stranger, and Caster could resist.

 _Anfang Ader_.

My eight, uninjured circuits roared with life. I circulated my prana. A film peeled away. It was heavier than Caster's Hypnosis. More forceful. Less subtle. Pushing it aside burnt more energy but required far less skill.

The dark armored cape jolted into focus. He rolled around streams of Gandr then suddenly dropped low, barely above street level. Caster cut her fire, afraid of striking civilians, then dropped from the roofs.

Which gave the dark suited cape plenty of time to accelerate straight at us.

"Faster!" I yelled.

"I'm already going too fast!" Tattletale cried.

Despite her words, Tattletale floored the accelerator. Chaotic traffic rushed toward us at a frightening pace. Tattletale wrestled with the steering wheel, trying navigate her way between car. _Clung._ I felt, as much as heard, our side hit another vehicle. I cringed, but didn't tell her to slow down. The dark armored cape picked up speed far faster than we did and had none of our obstacles. I already knew it was impossible to outrun our enemy.

Then again, we didn't need to.

Saber's motorcycle appeared almost out of nowhere. The knight's steed moved at a blur, speeding the wrong way down the street. She swerved expertly between a pair of vehicles, her armored skirt brushing pavement and casting sparks. Then she was upon us. Then over us. Saber bunny hopped the sedan as though she were a trick rider on a bicycle, lance held high in striking position.

The dark armored cape barely had time to react. But barely was enough. Gravity twisted around him. Forward acceleration transformed into upward ascension. Stones broke their orbit as he rose, flying toward the blonde knight. Saber rolled in midair, lance flashing out. The tip of her weapon sheered straight through the cape's technological field, then scraped along his armor.

Then they passed.

Saber swung her bike one-eighty before touching ground. Her hands worked the clutch, shifting into neutral just as the machine touched pavement. The bike skidded backward at over a hundred miles-per-an-hour. With effortless motion, Saber tapped the brakes, slowed, stopped, then reaccelerated straight toward her opponent.

The dark armored cape rolled higher then slewed by a rooftop. He slowed. His gravitational bubble fluxed. Stones and fragments were torn from the parapet. Ammunition renewed, the dark armored cape picked up speed and fired down from a greater height, this time aiming at the sedan.

It was only because of the distance that we had any hope of evasion.

"Rocks! Pull right!" I yelled.

Tattletale jerked the wheel. The sedan skidded right. Too far. Brick shattered on the asphalt behind us. _Cr-crack!_ The sedan's tires jumped the curb. A wooden utility pole rushed up in front of us.

"Left, left, left!"

Tattletale over-steered to the left. The sedan's wheels strained against the pavement, on the verge of slipping out beneath and sending us into a tail spin. A spinning slab ripped through the utility pole like an axe. The wooden beam broke into two parts. With a crackle and snap, sparking wires fell onto the road.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Tattletale cursed. She gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. "I'm no good at this!"

I could hear the tinge of panic in her tone. At this rate, Tattletale was more likely to kill us than the cape firing down from above.

"Focus on the road," I said calmly, twisting to look out the rear window with my human eyes. "He needs a few seconds to rearm."

The brief respite gave me a moment to check the situation.

Saber was at our rear, having caught up after her long charge. Caster had half vanished from my range. The brunette might be able to run down a car, but she couldn't maintain our pace. Instead, Caster had split off to relieve Archer. At least that was my best guess of her intent, as Archer had long since exited the scope of my senses.

The Teeth, though, were clearly in view.

While I was distracted, the armored bus had smashed halfway into a building before getting stuck. The Teeth had exited their vehicle and were now engaged in a running retreat from the PRT and Protectorate. Unfortunately, the power dynamics favored the Teeth. A flood of angry Spree clones had the capes pinned down, forcing the agents to focus on evacuations. Vex provided fields of razor sharp, crystalline barriers, shaping the battlefield and controlling avenues of approach.

This combination left the rest of the Teeth free to move they willed. The Teeth capes made surgical strikes on the Protectorate while unpowered members wrecked havoc or laid down covering fire.

Seeing the Teeth handle the Protectorate so easily made me grind my teeth. We should be there, busting heads, wrecking their plans. Instead we were stuck handling the Dealer's intervention. It was frustrating on another level as well. If the Butcher had to pull away and reinforce, my team would be able to consolidate its strength and strike a telling blow.

Though, I supposed, the Protectorate was probably thinking the same thing the opposite way around.

The Protectorate's battlefield vanished from sight. Before it did, I memorized the cross street. Broadway and Second.

Putting the Teeth aside for a moment, I focused on our situation. Tactically, we were in bad place. Sooner or later our opponent would get lucky. One good hit was all it took to put the sedan out of commission. And if our odds were bad when outrunning the dark armored cape in a car, they were even worse on foot. There wasn't a whole lot Saber could do either. Saber was a short ranged specialist. We needed reach, and my swarm was useless thanks to the tinker-tech forcefield.

At this point, our best move was to hand Saber the briefcase and split.

But I didn't like that solution. And not just because it put me out of the game. The car wreck that forced us onto that narrow one-way road was too convenient. The Teeth smashing into us was another hard to swallow coincidence. I didn't like the pattern. Our enemy wanted us separated. Which told me that they didn't believe they could win if we were grouped up. Dividing further would play into their hands.

I needed a way to pull us back together.

And then I was out of time to think.

The dark armored cape suddenly shot forward, cutting us off in front. He paused a hundred meters ahead. Scattered stone shot toward the sedan. Saber bore down on the throttle and accelerated past. Her lance made sweeping motions as she went, severing a slab of brick and knocking stones aside.

But she couldn't get everything.

 _Clung. Crash._ A rock hit the sedan's hood, bounced off, then smashed into windshield. Glass cracked, forming a spiderweb pattern frighteningly close to my head. Tattletale jerked. The sedan wavered and lost a great deal of speed.

The dark armored cape took the opening.

In a burst of gravitational flux, the cape shot forward. Rocks came with him, crashing toward Saber. The blonde knight was forced to swerve. The dark armored cape rolled over her head, well out of reach then suddenly reversed, stopping just above our roof.

Space lurched sickeningly.

I felt a tug. The sedan lifted, the roadway growing distant. One meter. Two meters. The gap stretched. I realized the dark armored cape's strategy and set my scattered swarm upon him. Useless. I knew it, but I didn't have any other weapon at hand.

Then Saber reached our position. The blonde knight jumped off her bike. _Th-th-thud_. Saber's booted feet pounded on the sedan's hood, roof, then trunk. Her aura flared.

In my experience, prana felt electric. Saber's prana was different. It was thick, heavy and filled my mouth with battery acid. I shook under the weight of it, all my hairs standing on end.

The dark armored cape's power recoiled as though struck.

Gravity loosed its grip. _Clung!_ The sedan crashed back down onto the pavement. The vehicle wobbled wildly, but this time Tattletale managed to keep us under control. Behind, Saber landed with elegance, falling neatly into the seat of her bike before wheeling around to catch up.

The dark armored cape was not so lucky.

Gravity twisted in a chaotic warble. The dark armored cape spun out of control. His body dropped too low. He glanced off the top of a van, the impulse sending him into a twirl. For an instant it looked as though he would meet the next vehicle's fender, but somehow he surged up just in time for the to car _whoosh_ below.

Recovered, the dark armored cape continued his dizzy rise, putting plenty of space between him and the ground. He shook his head and tried to get his bearings.

He thought he was safe. _I_ thought he was safe. Saber disagreed.

Saber's steed howled as she raced past. The blonde knight veered. Her motorcycle jumped the curb, leapt clear over the sidewalk, then landed wheels first on the face of a three story building. Lines of prana cascaded down the bike. Tires turned with a squeal. Saber shot upward.

At the velocity she was going, it only took a single breath for the blonde knight to reach the top of the building. Saber pushed off. Knight and motorcycle jumped, their arc taking them well over the dark armored cape.

He only noticed her motion at the last moment.

The dark armored cape faded back. Too slow. Saber twisted her bike in midair, lance flashing out. The blade kissed the cape's hip, sheering through metal as though it were water. The tip punched through. How far, I didn't know, but the scent of blood blossomed within the heart of my swarm.

Then Saber's arc carried her by.

The blonde knight rotated her vehicle to land squarely on the opposite building's wall. Her motorcycle slewed down the structure before sliding back into traffic. The dark armored cape rose a three score meters higher.

No ammunition, I noted.

"We're good for a minute. Saber scared him off," I explained.

Tattletale let out a breath, hands loosening on the wheel. We slowed to a speed equal to the rest of the traffic. _Thud-thud._ Saber knocked on my window. I powered down the glass. Saber leaned in close, wind dancing through wisps of regal hair. She shouted so as to be heard over the howl.

"I cannot deliver a telling blow unless our enemy commits," she declared.

I looked at Tattletale. The white faced girl shook her head then took a few even breaths to slow her heart.

"With that Stranger power in effect, I can't see shit," Tattletale explained, voice somewhat shaky. "Best I can do is read the consequences of his actions, but even then it's iffy. His power runs deeper than just cleaning memories, it's scrubbing away all kinds of minor details like a soldier might wipe away their trail during a retreat."

"I have an idea," I said. I turned back to the blonde knight. "But you won't like it."

"Few paths in warfare lack risk," Saber said by way of answer.

I glanced up at the dark armored cape. He floated high above, watching us warily. I didn't blame him. Seeing how things had been going, he was probably running out of ideas on how to approach. With his power, he could kill us easily. Lift something big then drop it and we'd be done. But that was beside the point. I tried to read his posture. Was he arguing on the radio, trying to get permission to come in heavier? Or was he weighing his options before he gave it another go?

I didn't know. I wished I could bounce my thoughts off of Tattletale, but right now she was useless.

"Our enemy is trying to separate us," I said slowly, forming my thoughts. "We're split between the Teeth, the Butcher, and the Dealer's hitman. Instead of fighting separate, we should gather up."

"A united front is wise," Saber said firmly. "That is the path I recommended to Archer. With the current danger, I believe he will relent in his stubbornness."

Archer's stubbornness? My mind flashed to the first meeting between the Undersiders and Unit 09. So this was what they were talking about when they took me on. A way to get Archer to back down, if only for the sake of me. If that was the case, Saber and Caster were about to be disappointed. Because, if anything, I was greedier than my patrol partner.

"That wasn't what I was thinking," I replied, shaking my head. "We don't gang up then attack. We make everyone come to us. We hit the Teeth. The PRT has them on the run. They're stretched out. Vulnerable. We smash them from the rear and the Butcher has no choice but to show up, leaving Caster and Archer free to move in from the flank."

"A dangerous strategy," Saber commented. "And I do not believe our foe will allow such a maneuver."

I looked up. The dark armored cape continue to pace us. No action on his part. Then again, every minute we held our heading the distance between us and our allies got larger. So, waiting wasn't exactly a losing strategy. But it wasn't a winning one either. Caster and Archer might not be as fast as Saber, but they could be pretty damn mobile when they wanted to be.

"Then we give Saber the case. If she splits, he'll have to follow her," Tattletale supplied.

"Unless he decides to hold us hostage instead," I pointed out.

"Yeah, that is a possibility," Tattletale admitted. "But not a natural one. When under the gun, people go with their instincts. And the natural instinct is to chase prey. That means the case. Saber takes it, he follows her. By the time anything else occurs to him it'll be too late."

"But she can't go too far. If she did, it'd be the opposite of what I'm planning," I pointed out. "Maybe the edge of my range?"

"Four blocks?" Tattletale said with a grimace, correctly deducing the scope of my field. "He could still reach us pretty quick, but it'll serve as a buffer."

"That would deprive you of my protection for some time. Overmind, are you certain that if the worst comes you can hold for one minute?" Saber's words were heavy, judging.

"I have my costume, Caster's upgrades, and Taming Sari. I should be able to hold for a lot longer than that."

Huh. Come to think of it, with all my equipment I was pretty damn tough. Never thought of myself as a heavy. Then again, with a team like mine, I still counted as fragile. Tattletale on the other hand...

I looked at the freckled blonde.

"Hey now, no need to worry about little old me. I'll be supervising while you do all the hard work," Tattletale quipped, as though reading my thoughts.

"Then I shall have faith in your abilities," Saber said with a stern nod. "Turn toward your goal. I shall give our foe an obstacle he cannot easily surmount."

Saber suddenly fell back, then slid around to the opposite side of the sedan. Tattletale unrolled the back window. Saber used the opening to reach in and grab the suitcase. The blonde knight took a second to adjusted her package, throwing a strap over her shoulder so that she could mind both her bike and her lance.

Her movement drew the dark armored cape's eye. He whisked down, slowing as he passed over rooftops to gather ammunition. It seemed that he sensed the shift in our strategy.

"Ready?" I asked, looking toward the freckled blonde.

"You got a direction?" Tattletale returned.

The Teeth were out of range. Good thing I had memorized their last location. "Broadway and Second."

"Got it."

Tattletale pushed down on the gas, raising our speed to a good ten-to-fifteen faster than the traffic around us. In the same moment, Saber let loose on her throttle. The blonde knight shot by. Tattletale turned right, throwing us onto a second road. Saber continued on her path, accelerating the entire way.

The dark armored cape paused for a moment, then surged after the blonde knight.

"We good?" Tattletale asked.

"He's following Saber," I answered.

Tattletale turned a second time, reversing our original direction. I swirled my swarm and managed to land a handful of insects on Saber's dashboard. The critters quickly grouped together to form a crude insectile compass. Saber read my intentions correctly and veered onto another street so that our paths were parallel.

I left the details to my power then spread my awareness across my swarm.

The long path had taken us several kilometers away from the Teeth, so there was no way I could sense them now. Instead, I devoted attention into forming a horde of flying insects. The sedan moved faster than the fliers, so we'd leave them behind. But my orders wouldn't vanish the second they left my range. Which meant the insects I was commanding now would form a continuous wave that would crash into my enemy once I arrived. Fodder for the fight. A lesson I had learned when I lost the majority of my swarm during the fight with the Merchants.

At the same time, I checked my equipment.

Taming Sari, secure in my belt. Beetle necklace, hidden beneath costume and shirt. My mask was on with all belts and buckles secured. My shoes were tied. Three copies of Nanatsu-Yoru were at my side. Finally, I had the white-hilted knife Archer created. I stomped my feet, pounding them against sedan's floor boards. Still a bit shaky, but they were as ready as they were going to be.

"Half a minute," Tattletale warned.

My swarm picked up the edge of the Teeth.

"I see it," I said.

With a flick of thought my swarm moved, creating a line of flying bugs over the road that pointed at our enemy. I unbuckled my seat belt then rolled my neck and loosened my shoulders. The white hilted knife slipped from my belt. I held it for a moment, running a trickle of prana through the hilt to get a feel for how it worked.

"You planning something?"

The freckled blonde shot me smile. Comforting? No, excited. Tattletale must be a bit of an adrenaline junkie. I grinned back, my expression lost to my mask. The mood was infectious.

"Yeah. Something incredibly stupid," I returned.

The Teeth came into view.

The conflict between the PRT and the Teeth had come to a boil in the middle of a Rite Aid parking lot. The situation had changed. The Teeth's retreat had turned into a brutal counter attack. The Protectorate capes were trying to fall back, two sporting serious injuries. PRT agents formed a riot shield wall while hundreds of Spree clones ran into them. The armored vans I had seen go by earlier were in terrible condition. One was split open. The other was a wreck tossed on its side then strewn across Second Street.

The Protectorate flier – Dovetail? I couldn't quite remember her name – circled the conflict, laying down streams of silvery spheres. The bubbles drifted down, falling into the crowd. Where they touched, Spree clones were enveloped. The effect didn't last long. The raging clones tore through silvery forcefields in mere seconds. But they served to disrupt the human mass, giving the PRT agents time for an organized retreat.

Then a wall of sparkling forcefields cut through their ranks like butter.

Vex's power tore the PRT formation in half. An agent's arm brushed one of the razor sharp edges, unleashing a spray of blood. He screamed. A beastly cape surged forward. It was huge, almost the size of Bitch's dogs, and covered in thick hide and muscles. Spikes crowned its head and collar, while scores of spines ran down the ridges of its back. Animos, the Teeth's Changer I presumed, smashed into the shield wall, bowling through half-a-dozen PRT agents.

Dovetail dived low, showering Animos with her bubbly forcefields. A mistake. Animos turned his head up and screamed. The shrill howl hit as though it had physical force. PRT agents fell back, dazed. Dovetail dropped like a rock. Animos picked up a paw, then batted the girl straight into the crowd of shrieking Spree clones.

The PRT ranks broke.

As the agents ran, holes opened in their formation. Spree's raging copies rushed in, piling upon the agents with clubs and knives. A handful of young Protectorate capes – Wards? – yelled and rushed forward bypassing the adults trying to hold them back. A man made of metal took the lead, crashing through the army of clones in hope of reaching Dovetail.

An ugly expression spread on my face.

Cape fights were brutal. After experiencing several, I had grasped that reality. The unwritten rule might be presented in terms of 'thou shalt not kill', but their intentions were closer to 'thou shalt not murder'. In other words, so long as you weren't making a direct effort to kill someone, anything goes. At least, that was how I had come to view it.

But this was pushing the envelope. Throwing Dovetail into that group was brushing the edge of murder, and I was pretty damn sure some of those agents wouldn't make it out alive. Hot anger stabbed through me. Tattletale was going to have to eat her rules, because I was fucking done with playing nice.

With a cruel thought, I adjusted the bug marked path.

Seconds now. I grabbed the handle of the passenger side door. At the same time, my left hand tightened on the grip of the white hilted knife. I pushed prana into the blade. Slowly filling it to the brim. I could feel the shadows waver. I held them at bay. What I wanted was to stuff the weapon to the top and leave it for Tattletale's use.

"Overmind, that's less stupid and more insane," Tattletale said.

"Just drive," I retorted.

Tires squealing, Tattletale turned toward the parking lot. No more time.

I unleashed my swarm, slammed the knife into the dashboard console, then popped the handle of the door. Then there was no time to think.

 _Th-th-thump._ The sedan rammed through the crowd of Spree clones. Bloody bodies hit the car's fender. Some were thrown up and over the windshield, leaving crimson streaks over the glass. Others were sucked under the wheels. The sheer mass of human weight slowed the vehicle's velocity down from ludicrous to ridiculous.

And that, of course, was when I chose to open the door and throw myself out.

Tucking in my chin and arms, I hit the pavement in a roll. The ground punched back, smashing the air from my lungs. I tumbled. Whirling, spinning, barely under control. My back rammed into one clone then another. The first had its legs knocked out of underneath him. The second stumbled then fell as it absorbed my weight.

Chaos reigned around me.

A thick carpet of insects descended, forming a shadowy wave that swept over everything. The bugs struck at vulnerable points with ruthless abandon. Eyes. Nostrils. Ears. The stabbed. They pierced. They pinced. I had no mercy. Spiders and hornets dispensed their poisons, striving to outright murder the throng of clones. Shock and pain destroyed cognition. The cascading cloud disrupted senses. The sedan's bloody path brutalized the formation. In this madness, even veteran capes would struggle to react.

Unfortunately, the maddened clone I rammed into didn't bother to think. It just attacked.

The first blow took me in the ribs. The second struck me across the jaw. I barely flinched. The clone's fists felt as though they were covered in cushioned gloves. Prana crackled. I could feel the electric discharge of energy from runes Caster sewed into my costume.

The clone's third strike finally knocked me out of my funk.

I rolled then punched back. My fist smashed into the clone's cheek. The weight behind it slammed the clone's head into the pavement. His skull bounced. I struck a second time, not quite in rhythm. The Spree clone howled. A wild swing knocked me back.

I blinked, then realized I was an idiot. Instead of curling a fist, I grabbed a copy of Nanatsu-Yoru. Then I drove the knife straight into the clone's neck.

Blood sprayed over my hand. The Spree clone shuddered, then went still. A foul feeling filled me. A dizzying sickness that made my hands shake. Before the emotion could take control, I pushed it into my swarm, leaving behind cold clarity. My bones hurt. My ligaments had been stretched in ways not intended. My head pounded and my circuits burned. I ignored all those pains, indulging instead in the warm golden light flowing out my necklace into my wounds. Avalon. A tool that could repair a pulverized heart in minutes. Minor injuries like those I had suffered? They'd be gone much more quickly.

I stood shakily.

I didn't need to look to see through the pandemonium. My swarm tracked all the participants of this fight. The Spree clones had gone insane. They attacked with a berserk frenzy, unable to tell friend from foe. Vex and the unpowered Teeth flailed uselessly, coughing and spitting to clear the critters wiggling down nose and throat. What attention they could spare was stolen by the clones assaulting them.

Hemorrhagia and Animos weren't so affected. The blood manipulating Striker formed curtains of crimson and used them to sweep sheets of black from the air. The insects that slipped past her guard were drowned in rivulets of blood. As for Animos? The Changer was simply too tough. The giant beast ignored my horde in favor of the metal man.

As long as he wasn't my problem.

Finally, I checked on Tattletale. The sedan was 'parked' halfway in the Rite Aid building. After the crash Tattletale had pulled the white hilted knife from the console before scurrying out the back. The freckled blonde was wrapped by shadow, ephemeral. The only reason I could find her at all was because I left bugs on her person.

I let out a breath of relief. Good. She was out of the way and safe, at least temporarily. Not that the prana I left in the knife would last for long.

Recovered and back on my feet, I turned toward the bloody path carved by Saber's sedan. Eight or nine copies of Spree lay strewn along the avenue cut through the crowd. The clones moaned and howled, rolling on the ground with broken bones and bodies. I ignored the mass and approached the original.

Spree was still on his hands and knees when I got to him, heaving up a mouthful of blood onto the concrete. My eyes flickered to his injuries. His leg had snapped and his thigh was twisted out of place. Crimson dripped from his chin. Slow. Nothing deadly then. At least, nothing visibly so. Without an ounce of mercy, I walked up and kicked Spree in the face. The blow sent Spree sprawling onto his back.

He struggled to sit up. I stomped on his chest.

"Get rid of your clones," I ordered. My voice was cold. The buzzing of my swarm added a strange, echoing cadence.

Spree coughed and woozily looked up at me. "Fuck you, Protectorate bitch."

Spree's head wobbled. He looked out of it, barely aware of what was going on. A head injury then? Getting hit by a car moving around forty would do that to you. I'd have to avoid striking his skull a third time if that was a case.

Keeping that in mind, I waggled my bloody copy of Nanatsu-Yoru in front his eyes.

"I'm not Protectorate. And in this mess, nobody would think twice if I accidentally slit the throat of the wrong Spree," I said, making a show of glancing around. "So what's it going to be?"

"Not Protectorate? Who –"

I put my boot on Spree's throat and firmly pushed down. The cape garbled and thrashed. I held the pressure for five seconds before letting off.

"The clones. Get rid of them," I commanded coldly.

Spree gasped for breath. "I can't."

I thrust my foot back down on Spree's neck, harder this time. Spree struggled with more force. I kept my boot in place until completing a count of ten.

I let up. Spree gurgled and coughed. I gave him a few breaths to clear the blood from his throat.

"I can keep doing this," I warned.

"Stop. Stop and I'll explain," Spree whimpered. He hacked up another spatter of blood. His voice was raspy as he spoke. "My clones. There's no way to get rid of them. They only go away if you kill them or they expire. It takes fifteen minutes. After fifteen minutes they fall apart."

My eyes narrowed. I raised my boot. "That a lie?"

"No. No. I didn't lie. I really don't know how to make them go away."

Shit.

I glowered down at the enemy Master, trying to decide whether he was telling the truth. Powers were fucked beyond belief, so it was entirely possible that he had no control over his clones. Then again he could be bullshitting. Without taking off my mask and using Hypnosis, there was no way to tell of sure. And hell if I was doing that around so many witnesses.

That left knocking Spree out and hoping for the best.

There were a lot of ways to knock a person out. The safest was and easiest way was to choke them out. Saber had taught me the theory, but I had never actually attempted the technique. The second most straight forward way was to hit Spree in the head until he dropped. But with all the damage Spree had suffered, that'd probably kill him.

Know what? Fuck it. I tucked my knife into my belt and grabbed Spree's head with my left hand. _Anfang Ader_. I used the phrase to focus my prana, then sent a burst straight into Spree's brain. This wasn't Hypnosis. There was no finesse in my action. No attempt to forge a connection. No attempt to control the flow through his nerves. Instead, I dumped power straight into Spree's central cortex and froze its internal functions under glacial ice.

Spree convulsed, thrashing in my hand for five seconds before falling limp. I studied him for a bit, then guided a fly to his upper lip. A hint of breath dragged at my minion's wings. Still alive then. I looked over my shoulder, searching for any hint that my action had an effect.

For the first dozen seconds, there was nothing at all. Then it hit. First one Spree clone dropped, then another. Faster and faster they fell until the entire group slumped in a single wave. The bodies trembled for seconds, then flopped dead like puppets whose strings had been cut. Cold. Unmoving. Copses littered the parking lot, deteriorating into a slurry of blood and meat before my very eyes.

It was the single most disgusting thing I ever saw.

There was a moment of stillness. A quiet of sound as well as movement. Everyone stopped, leaving the only noise the humming of my swarm. With the clones rotting on the ground, lines of sight were cleared. Scores of eyes turned to me, my visage half hidden by the swirling mass of my horde.

Since the stage was set, I may as well make an impression.

I pulled my swarm. The biblical plague peeled from the parking lot, then whirled overhead before landing behind me. The crawling, chitinous mass carpeted the ground and cars in a uniform, seething mass. My horde didn't stop growing. As the seconds passed, streams of flying insects settled amongst their already horrifying number.

I scanned the battlefield with my human eyes. It was amazing how easy it was to forget my limits. An insect's senses and understanding were completely different than that of a person. The visual cues they picked up were fuzzy, often lacking color and detail. Now those obstacles were removed and I could truly grasp the situation.

The Teeth had been backed into a corner.

On Second Street, near the split PRT van lay a containment foam cocoon. Given the Teeth participants I had thus far spotted, I could guess the victim's name. Reaver. And it wasn't just him. Vex had also been pinned down by the PRT. A sticky loop of containment foam wrapped around the woman's leg pinning it to a Yield sign that had been torn from the ground. Unlike Reaver, she at least was mobile. However, while that sign was stuck to her leg, Vex wasn't going anywhere fast.

In other words, they were screwed.

It was at that moment, I witnessed a terrible truth. In the chaos of combat, the situation could flip in an instant. During their retreat, the Teeth had faltered. When the PRT tasted victory, they over reached. Stalemate turned to disadvantage, then disadvantage turned again to become advantage. Now I arrived and transformed fortune for a third time.

A coin spinning on its edge. Sooner or later the coin would fall and fate would be decided. But until that moment, no one could say for sure on which side the coin would land. A lesson I had best not forget, because it was pure arrogance to think the situation could not turn on me.

"Who are you?" a gravelly voice demanded.

Animos rotated his head. Unlike Bitch's dogs, his face was flat. No maw, no snout. If anything the shape of his mouth was human. That was where familiarity ended. Animos had five eyes, three faced forward while the other two were stationed on the side of his head granting an incredible breadth of vision. The image was alien, disconcerting to my animal brain.

He wasn't small. Animos was thicker and bulkier than Bitch's dogs, though shorter overall. Maybe half their mass. With that body came incredible strength. Perhaps a bit beyond biological norms, but not by much. I could tell from how Animos struggled as he pressed down on the metal man. I winced as the Protectorate cape sank into the armored vehicle's surface. That had to suck. Hopefully someone would help him back out.

"She's one of the ones that was chasing us before," Hemorrhagia said. The woman flicked her wrist, transforming a curtain of blood into long claws of crimson. She turned and shot an ugly glare at the PRT agents, a reminder that she hadn't forgotten about their presence.

"Unit 09's Overmind from Brockton Bay." It was the metal man that spoke. From his tone, I figured he was more annoyed than hurt.

Vex jerked when she heard my name. The woman glanced up, halting her attempt to saw off the Yield sign using the edge of her forcefield.

"Unit 09? Fuck. Aren't they the ones that took out Lung and the ABB in one day?" Vex asked. She looked nervous.

I couldn't have asked for a better introduction.

As capes went, I was pretty damn new. But I liked to think I picked things up quickly. Grue loved to talk about reputation and respect. As he phrased it, image was everything. In Somer's Rock, Caster had reinforced the idea. Tattletale called us kings. Caster had delivered. That presence. That projection of authority and inevitability. Caster hadn't lifted a single finger to disrupt Kaiser's alliance. Instead, she had obliterated it with reputation alone.

Impressions mattered. Right now, I stood halfway between the PRT and the Teeth. A lone girl dividing a fight like Moses split the Red Sea. _That_ was a powerful image. The kind of image that stuck in people's heads. But right now, that image was fragile. Weak. If I was defeated, no one would think anything of it.

But if I won?

Goosebumps rose on my skin. What would it say, if the weakest member of Unit 09 destroyed the Teeth? Because that's how people would see it. Overmind versus the Teeth. A reputation like that would destroy our enemies before the fight even started.

"Get your people out of here."

I directed my words toward the PRT. My command drew sour looks. The agents had already been moving before I spoke. Didn't matter. What mattered was the picture it painted. I gave a command and that command was followed.

"You going to fight us alone little girl," Hemorrhagia laughed. "Animos is enough to turn you into a smear."

Animos chortled in tandem with the woman. The quadrupedal beast stepped away from the van. The vehicle bobbed as he removed his weight. "Why bother? You'll turn her into mince meat before I could reach her."

Well, I definitely had their attention. Nervously, I adjusted my grip on Taming Sari. At the same time, I unsheathed a copy of Nanatsu-Yoru. I let out a breath. If worst came to worst, I had enough od to activate the knife twice. Which should be sufficient to dig myself out of this pit I had cast myself into.

I kept my voice even as I spoke, ignoring the _pitter-patter_ of my heart. "If you have a way to contact the Butcher, I suggest you do it now."

"What an arrogant shit," Hemorrhagia sneered. She shot a look at the forcefield creator. "Vex, keep those PRT goons off our back."

Hemorrhagia started to walk forward. With a gesture, the blood manipulator drew blood from the Spree slurry that puddled upon the Rite Aid parking lot. The flow of crimson formed into a second pair of claws, giving Hemorrhagia a total of six blades, each of which was half as long as she was tall.

I moved with her.

My swarm stirred behind me, buzzing wings rising into a chitinous roar. A great, shadowed cloud puffed up behind me. Hemorrhagia spat, then lunged forward. A dark tendril of insects stretched out to meet her. Bees and hornets struck with a phalanx stingers. Spiders dropped from the sky, carried by dive bombing beetles. Hemorrhagia grit her teeth against the onslaught and slashed out with a claw.

The blood weapon stretched. Three blades melted into one, elongating to nearly two meters. Time slowed. My forward rush paused for a bare half step. The crimson blade whipped past my chest, brushing across spider silk threads. The pause lasted less than a breath, but in that time Hemorrhagia stepped forward. Her left hand claw flashed up in a bladed uppercut.

I sidestepped, body shifting forward as I moved. My swaying motion put me on Hemorrhagia's right. An opening. I turned. My mass rotated. My metal baton rose. _Crack!_ Taming Sari's crashed down onto the Striker's face, backed by all my weight. The woman's head was blown back. Hemorrhagia staggered, but maintained her footing. She twisted. Her right arm slashed again, long blade reforming into claws.

Guided by Taming Sari, I reversed direction and moved toward it. Hemorrhagia's blow was low. With inhuman agility, I flipped over it. In a blink, I was on her opposite side. My left hand flashed out. Nanatsu-Yoru's naked blade bit deep into the woman's deltoid, shearing through flesh and muscle.

Before she could recover, I cracked her atop the skull with my metal baton. The strike didn't have the force of the one before, but it was enough to make her stumble.

"Fuck," Hemorrhagia spat. The woman turned. Blood spread out like mist. Spikes of crimson exploded from the ground, like the teeth of some great beast. "Stay – _oof!"_

I leapt back, evading the attack, then lunging forward with a heavy kick. My foot rammed into Hemorrhagia's gut, folding the woman in half. She stumbled several steps back then tripped over the corpse of a Spree clone. I surged forward. Hemorrhagia was faster. Before I could reach, the woman rolled over, blades of blood whipping up so as to threaten anyone who dared approach.

Before I could close, Hemorrhagia hopped back a few steps.

"Having trouble?" Animos laughed.

Hemorrhagia scowled and chanced a glance in her partner's direction. "Nobody told me she was a god damned combat Thinker."

I said nothing and flooded Hemorrhagia's open mouth with insects.

Hemorrhagia choked then promptly hawked out a mouthful of bugs and blood. My swarm curled around the woman aggressively. Critters landed on the Striker then attacked every weak point and orifice, no matter how disgusting or improper. Hemorrhagia's face twisted. She coughed up another ball of bugs then formed curtains of red mist to defend herself.

Rather than rush in, I observed her reaction. Hemorrhagia was clearly more than a blood manipulator. Her power gave her some level of control over her body. It made her tough. The knife wound wasn't bleeding and she was evidently resistant to pain, given her prior reactions. That said, her arm seemed to be impaired and my swarm was getting to her. Brute 2 maybe. Not terribly strong, but tough enough to make this tricky.

Well then. If she wasn't going to bleed to death there was no sense holding back. I adjusted my grip on Nanatsu-Yoru and started filling the blade with prana.

"You're pathetic. Give me a second and I'll show you how its done." Animos's voice boomed louder than the buzzing of my swarm.

 _Bang. B-bang._ Gunfire cracked in the distance as the unpowered Teeth fought against the PRT. Vex formed rows of forcefields, dividing the battlefield into fragments. The PRT and Protectorate fell back, too injured and strung out to muster a counter attack. That wouldn't be true forever. Boston was a big city and no doubt they had reinforcements en route.

I left that fight alone. The further the PRT was driven back, the better for me. I had no interest helping only to have the Protectorate jump on me the moment I had things under control.

Then my attention flicked to someone else.

"Don't move," I barked. "There are enough black widows crawling on you to kill you twice over."

Animos threw a last bit of steel scrap on the metal man before turning to me with a scoff. "I'm not afraid of your bugs, little girl."

"And I can purge any poison from my blood," Hemorrhagia sneered in conjunction.

Hemorrhagia circled me, shifting her position so that should her partner charge she would be safely at my flank. Kind of gave away the game. Then again a thousand pounds of spikes and flesh was a damn good move even if you knew it was coming. But I wasn't talking to her.

It was Spree who froze. The Teeth Master quivered in place. Spiders danced on his skin, tiny legs tingling, letting him know my words held truth.

Spree had woken moments before. That was the problem with knocking people out. The easy ways didn't last more than a handful of seconds. If I wanted Spree to nap longer, I needed drugs or advanced thaumaturgy. Neither of which had been practical.

But I already knew that. Which was why I took measures.

Neither Hemorrhagia nor Animos picked up who I addressed.

They attacked in tandem.

Hemorrhagia struck with a flurry of crimson claws. Bladed blood sheered through the air with a reverberating hiss. I danced back with impossible grace, flowing around her strikes with incredible ease. My evasion was cautious now, rather than aggressive. I played the distance, moving just out of range.

Animos barreled through my position.

The four legged monstrosity was a collection of spikes and deadly blades. Strong. Tough. Terrifying. His muscles bulged, shielded beneath a scaly hide. But for all his strength, he wasn't particularly fast.

I stepped back then jumped. Animos's shoulder rammed through the space I abandoned. With a light step, my foot tapped his head then rump. I dropped back to the ground. Animos twisted, bulky body turning. I swayed. Hemorrhagia's claw slashed out, just short of my face. Her hands whipped around again, blood stretching out into a double bladed whip.

I dropped into crouch. The first whip head swept over. The second I parried with my baton.

 _Dong._

I winced. Taming Sari reverberated in my hand, before repelling the whip head with surprising force. The blow made me stagger, destroying my chance to lunge toward Hemorrhagia.

Not that it would have mattered. Rather than move forward, Hemorrhagia jumped back. I had half a second to wonder why.

Animos shrieked.

The high pitch wail resounded in my bones, a shrill crackling like a banshee's cry. My power warbled and my senses screamed. My circuits sung as though plucked. I wobbled. Ephemeral sensations cascaded down numbed nerves. Black danced in my vision. A nauseating dizziness gripped me. One I was sure would have sent me to the ground if I wasn't already halfway there.

I lost dominion over my swarm.

Insects went wild. It wasn't a simple a loss of control. My power itself was stricken. Fire danced down my spine, energy spewing out my five secondary circuits unbidden. I whirled prana in response, dampening the resonate vibrations.

A crimson blade struck out. My eyes caught the elongated spike even through my dizziness. My body reacted instantly, hopping to the side while parrying with my baton. Taming Sari shook in my hand.

Animos charged.

Taming Sari's power was magnificent, but it had its flaws. The inhuman speed it provided was far from infinite. The baton, for all its conceptual nature, could not parry a blow I lacked the physical strength to deflect. But its most severe weakness was that it only offered protection against attacks of which I was aware.

Without my swarm, Animos caught me off guard.

The Changer hit like a freight train. Horns punched into my back. The runes Caster stitched in my costume crackled to life, searing skin as they softened the blow. My body was torn from the earth. Animos raised his head, tossing me higher into the air.

Then a paw smashed me into the ground.

The wind exploded from my lungs. My skull cracked against asphalt. Caster's enchantments ablated the shock, but the momentum was enough rattle my brain in its cage. For a second, I blacked out. _R-r-r-rip!_ Animos's clawed foot racked over the back of my costume, popping spider silk fibers as it went. I blinked blearily and found his five-eyed head leering dangerously down upon my own.

I rolled, trying to find space.

Animos stomped down on my chest. Two ribs cracked sickeningly. With his weight, the monstrosity pinned me in place.

"Got you," Animos hissed. The beast's mouth opened revealing rows of thin, needle like teeth, erasing all impression of humanity.

"Tear her fucking limbs off," Spree shouted. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, I better not have been poisoned to death."

I turned my head to spot Spree slapping the spiders crawling on him in mad terror. With the way he was scaring the little critters, he had probably gotten more than a few bites. Absently, I wondered if I should tell him I'd been bluffing. While I had put a lot spiders on the Master, I didn't have enough widows to kill him. Then I realized that I wasn't sure how he'd react to such a wide of variety of venoms.

He wasn't going to have a good week, that much was for sure.

"Wait," Hemorrhagia interrupted. "Her team will probably be back. We might need a hostage."

"Or an example," Animos said. The beast leered. "Depending on the Butcher's mood."

Animos put extra weight on my chest, causing me to wheeze out a breath. Dark spots danced in my vision. I clenched my fists. I felt a pair of hilts. Taming Sari and Nanatsu-Yoru. Better yet, both of my arms were free.

Perfect.

I didn't hesitate.

The world pulsed. Nanatsu-Yoru came alive in my hands. _Throb._ Dark, jagged lines stretched out crisscrossing roads, cars, and bodies. Putrid. Hungry. Wrong. An otherworldly existence that longed to be real only to be rejected by the world itself. Pain scattered down my optic nerve like a wiggling worm made of fire.

Unbidden, my left arm rose. I slashed with incredible quickness. Animos didn't have time to blink.

The blade caught Animos on the clavicle. Nanatsu-Yoru did not slow. The blade sheered through horn and bone as though they were water, twisting in an erratic zigzag before jolting out. Three ribs and a shoulder parted from his torso. A torn lung seeped out the wound in a fountain of blood that splattered all over my mask.

Unable to withstand the realization of its mystery, Nanatsu-Yoru shattered into motes.

At the same time, Animos tilted and toppled.

Then he screamed.

Or, at least, he _tried._

Blood burbled up from Animos's mouth in a sickening, hissing shriek. His body convulsed. Muscles shrank. His monstrous features twisted and transformed, blending into a human form. Pain. Confusion. Comprehension. Denial. Animos's terror played out in a single moment before my eyes.

Then I turned away, rolling out from underneath the still monstrous body. I was numb. On some level, I realized what I had done. Animos would almost certainly die. The rest of me focused on the battle in front of me. Hemorrhagia was still there, a breath from my position. Spree might rejoin the fight any minute. Vex and the unpowered Teeth had all but driven off the PRT, leaving them free to turn around and come for me.

Danger was abound. There was no time for emotion. I quashed my feelings, wishing that I could spread them across my swarm. Then I drew another knife. My circuits ached with a deep emptiness. I pushed out prana nonetheless, filling the empty vessel.

Hemorrhagia glared at me with a terrible, hateful expression.

"If you can keep Animos from bleeding to death, do it," I said coolly. Knife in hand, I slowly walked away from the Changer, giving her plenty of space.

"I'm not going to thank you," Hemorrhagia spat.

After giving me a second glare, Hemorrhagia cautiously moved to Animos's side. Once she reached him, her visage melted into one of concern. The woman's worry made her feel more real, more human. My gut clenched. Nausea roiled within. I could feel the sticky blood sinking into my suit and congealing around my gloves. The smell of it...

I grimaced and waited. To my relief, Hemorrhagia's power proved useful. The blood pouring out of the gaping hole cut in Animos's side slowed then stopped. Moments later, his chest began to rise and fall in a proper manner. The blue tinge on Animos's lips started to fade into a pale colorization.

I let out a breath of relief. I hadn't killed him. No third body to add to my existing count. Better yet, Hemorrhagia was tactically tied up. As good as defeated. I glanced across the parking lot, taking stock of my situation. Spree had barely moved. Rather than fight, the Master busied himself puking his guts onto the blood soaked pavement.

My nose wrinkled at the mess. I didn't envy the poor soul who had to clean up after Spree's horror show.

I turned. No Vex in sight, but I could see the sawed off top of the Yield sign leaning against a car. The gunfire had quieted. Which meant either she or the PRT would be here soon.

My gaze flipped back to Hemorrhagia.

"Call the Butcher," I ordered.

"She'll kill you," Spree gargled. His face was a twisted of mask of loathing and glee.

I stared back, unperturbed. The Teeth Master looked as though he were about to keel over. The lack of clones surprised me. Was he too scared? Or – my eyes flickered toward his broken leg – maybe his clones were born with the same injuries he had? It wasn't impossible. His clones received costumes that were knock offs of his own. The conclusion fit.

"She'll try," I said, attempting to sound nonchalant. It wasn't hard. I was mentally drained. Numb.

"Do it," Animos choked out.

Hemorrhagia gazed worriedly at Animos. The Changer practically glared back. Yielding to his gaze, Hemorrhagia pulled out a flip phone and dialed a number. She didn't bother answering before hanging up. A preset signal. Simple and effective.

I waited. It was amazing how awkward it was, standing beside a group of villains that wanted to murder me. I tapped my foot impatiently, eyes shooting to all the nearby roofs and alleys. Without my swarm I felt blind. It made me nervous. I decided to try and do something about it.

 _Anfang Käfer_.

With a mental incantation, I ignited my five secondary circuits. Lines of lava cascaded down my back then spilled into my spine. I grit my teeth and gently circulated my prana. Beneath the wave of fire, a weird prickling sensation crawled its way through my mind and soul. Hopefully that meant my technique was working, and not that I was frying my brain.

 _Boom!_

A rattling explosion disrupted my thoughts. The Butcher appeared in a shockwave of fire. I abandoned my internal efforts and adjusted my grip on my weapons. Silently, I hoped that Archer and Caster would be quick to hunt her down.

The Butcher was a tall woman, larger than me by half a head. She was thin, elegant, with smooth gray tinged skin. Her costume was a work of art. A mix of samurai and road side bandit. A trio of bleached skulls hung over one shoulder. Somehow, I didn't think she bought them on the Internet.

The Teeth leader scrutinized the area, taking in the situation with her own eyes. The Butcher wasn't any less ragged than the rest of the Teeth. An arrow had pierced through her left leg. I could tell because the shaft was still sticking out of her thigh. Bloody welts crossed her back, likely the result of Caster's Gandr. Most prominent were the two missing fingers and severed thumb on her left hand.

"Prepare some vehicles. We're leaving," she said.

Her voice was even. Cool, but not cold. Neither strong nor forceful. Almost like that of an ordinary person. Except their was an edge to it. An expectation that, no matter how quietly she spoke, she would be heard and obeyed.

The Butcher didn't bother to face me. Apparently, I was unworthy of her attention. That wouldn't do. Everything was arranged how I wanted. I couldn't have the main participant run off before the start of the show. I stepped forward, opening my mouth to say something.

Another voice beat me to the punch.

"Wow, you show up then immediately turn tail and run," a smarmy girl interrupted. "Archer and Caster must have kicked your ass real hard."

I winced. Tattletale. The freckled blonde was sitting on the rear end of the sedan, wearing her vulpine smile. That girl. Why would she show up _now_?

"They can't run," I said, speaking loudly in hopes of drawing the Butcher's eyes to me. "Animos and Spree aren't going anywhere. Not with their injuries. And one of yours is still pinned to the concrete thanks to the PRT's containment foam."

I made a short gesture toward the cocoon stuck on the ground near a PRT armored van.

The Butcher finally seemed to take notice of my existence. "You are?"

"One of Unit 09's," Hemorrhagia spat. "She beat the fuck out of Spree and took Animos's arm."

The Butcher didn't say a word. She just raised a hand and then –

"Technically, _I_ took out Spree," Tattletale suddenly interjected. "Drove the car straight into him then _bang_ he's on the ground."

Whatever the Butcher was about to do, she stopped. I glared at Tattletale. The freckled blonde smiled back then waggled the item in her left hand. Not the white hilted dagger. A metal briefcase. Suddenly, the situation clicked.

The Butcher's head tilted toward the blonde Thinker. "You're trying to delay me."

Tattletale's smile was particularly smug. "Yep, and I succeeded."

A wave of prana exploded at the Butcher's rear, the energy so heavy I could taste the electric mass. Shadows peeled away. Saber appeared at the Butcher's side. Fire flared, bursting from the Butcher's form only to fizzle into faded light. The Teeth leader jolted half a step to the right before coming to a sudden stop.

Saber grabbed her arm.

There wasn't time to blink before the tiny knight turned her body. A slight twist was all it took to fling the Butcher into the air before whipping her down straight into the concrete. _Bang!_ The earth cracked. Asphalt shattered.

The shock would have left me dizzy if not out. To the Butcher, it was nothing at all. The Teeth leader rolled in Saber's grip, rising into a crouch. Saber took a half step back, jerking the Butcher's feet out from underneath her. Then the blonde knight stomped down, smashing the Butcher into the ground with unnatural force.

But in the contest of raw strength, Saber came up short.

The Butcher turned, dragging Saber with her. The sudden impulse made Saber stumble. A steel boot slammed down, catching the blonde knight before she could fall. Saber rolled with her momentum then stepped back. The motion hauled the Butcher up even as Saber kicked out her knees.

 _Foop!_

A garnet line _whoos_ _h_ _ed_ overhead then _thudded_ into the Butcher's chest. In a blink, an aborted, barbed spear had sprouted out of the tall woman's left shoulder. The Butcher didn't even grunt. Instead she whirled, tearing her arm out of Saber's grip. Fire flared again, straining against Saber's heavy aura. _Pop._ The soft crack was no louder than the bursting of a paper bag. The Butcher appeared three meters away, struggling to stay on her feet.

Saber blurred.

The Butcher might be stronger than Saber, but she wasn't faster. Before I could breathe, Saber had rammed her fist into the Butcher's gut. The Butcher choked, spewing blood laced spittle. Saber unhesitantly used that moment of distraction to twist the woman's arms behind her in a manner that denied the Butcher all leverage.

"Secured?" a loud voice called.

The Butcher struggled but couldn't break free. After a moment, the tall woman relaxed.

"Secured," Saber confirmed with a formal tone.

Archer dropped from a far roof, striding quickly toward the blood stained parking lot. His bow remained in hand until he was within five paces of Saber and the Teeth leader.

"Please tell me we're done with all that tedious running."

Caster stepped out from around the Rite Aid building. The brunette's left hand was up, crest glowing with intense prana. A body rested on her right shoulder, a severed fragment of a sign post glued to its foot.

Archer didn't say a word. Lines of light writhed in open air before twisting into a pair of thorned manacles. Garnet, I noted, with metal bands exactly as thick as the shaft of the spear-arrow. Probably the same weapon then, I concluded. Without prompting, Saber dragged the Butcher's arms up giving the redhead a chance to mold the metal around her wrists.

Saber frowned, then looked to Caster.

"I sense no reduction in her strength," she declared. "I am uncertain that this approach will prove effective."

"Tools that prevent teleportation as rare as the magecraft itself, so it'll have to do," Caster groused. "At the very least, it should muck with her mysteries."

The brunette rolled a shoulder, then dumped the unconscious Vex onto the pavement. Caster paused for a moment to ensure the Shaker would stay asleep.

"Let me guess, the blade kills thaumaturgy?" Tattletale asked. The freckled blonde hopped off the back of the sedan. Without waiting for her question to be answered, she leaned in and gave the manacles a long gander. "Her Mover power hits her whole body, so I give it a sixty percent chance of working. Less for her other powers. You might want to try a blindfold. Teleporters tend to be line of sight. Though, in the Butcher's case, you'll need to do something about her ability see arteries through walls."

"Can we knock her unconscious, and let the Protectorate handle it from there?" I asked.

"Won't work," Tattletale said, shaking her head. "Hypnosis puts the brain to sleep, but the previous Butchers aren't in her brain. They'll shout until the main Butcher wakes up. As for the Protectorate..."

Tattletale grimaced.

"If they can get her to the Birdcage, they're fine," Tattletale explained. "The problem it getting her there fast enough. Her right to a trial has already been waved, so that's not the issue. The problem is transport. The Protectorate needs at least two days to arrange it. Longer with paperwork."

Paperwork. Of course. I grimaced when I heard the Butcher wouldn't get a trial, but I wasn't about to argue the issue on her behalf. If it had been anyone else, they'd have had a kill order by now.

"No drugs. Tranquilizers? A way to keep her non-functional until they can lock her up permanently?"

Tattletale shook her head. "The Butcher has increased durability multiple times over. Nobody knows how it stacks. Normal drugs and dosages don't work and, given the circumstances, who's going to experiment?"

I grimaced. Archer's expression was equally displeased. He turned to Caster.

"Can you jury rig a pair of mystic eye killers?" the redhead asked.

"If you give me half an hour," Caster groaned. She glowered down at her prisoner, looking quite put out. "If it were anyone else, I'd say kill her and be done with it."

Archer stood in quiet contemplation for a moment. "I don't like the idea of leaving her to the Protectorate."

I shared Archer's frustration. While I liked the idea of sending the Butcher to prison, I didn't trust the Protectorate. It would be one thing if we could knock the Butcher out and keep her out, but with the way things were the Butcher would be back on the street before sunset.

"Can we kill her power? Or maybe control her?" I said, my mind flashing back to the Merchants. Then my tone darkened. "And if that doesn't work, then maybe we should just lobotomize her."

Tattletale looked at me, horrified. "Wow, Overmind. There's stepping over the line. And then there's _that._ "

I scowled. "It's the Butcher," I said pointedly. "You said it yourself, the Protectorate has already waived her right to a trial. Don't tell me they'd seriously give a fuck."

"Language," Caster sounded offhandedly. "It _is_ an interesting idea, but not an immediately practical one. This isn't a secure location. And none of us is trained for brain surgery."

"You cannot win. I die. I get stronger. You lose."

The Butcher's voice was cool. Not the tone of someone who thought they had lost. It felt off. Dangerous. Like –

Before I could voice my thoughts, the Butcher moved.

The tall woman bucked back, slamming her skull into Saber's face. It wasn't enough to hurt Saber, but it was enough to distract. A quarter second. That was all it took for the Butcher to leap away. Searing flames flared outward, then imploded into an infinitesimal point. _Bang!_ The Butcher vanished only to appear a dozen meters away. The tall woman stumbled, seeming confused.

It appeared that while Archer's manacles didn't stop the Butcher's power, they weakened it.

Saber shot forward, leaving behind shattered concrete. The Butcher vanished again before the knight could reach, materializing a half step from the broken PRT personal carrier.

For a breath, the Butcher paused. The tall, elegant woman looked back at us. I could almost see the unspoken words echoing in her eyes.

I die. I win.

Then the tall woman reared back and slammed her neck onto a ragged steel edge.

Time seemed to freeze.

I looked on in horror. Did this count as murder? If so, who killed her? I turned, fearful. Saber. Archer. Caster. Tattletale. Their names flashed through my brain. Anyone of them could have been said to have killed her. I didn't see any sign. Where there signs? How does one tell?

Then a thought occurred to me. Was it me? My heart pounded. _Th-thud_. _Th-thud_. I waited for the hammer to fall.

"Spree!"

Tattletale shouted. My head jerked. The Teeth's Master had gone still. I could see a subtle, gray tinge spreading through his skin. Not quite inhuman, but clearly unnatural. Spree looked back at us. His expression was cold. A deep terror began to build inside.

If I had been asked one second ago who would've been worst target, I would have said Archer or Saber. Their powers already crossed the threshold of bullshit. Throw the Butcher's into the mix and they'd be nearly unstoppable. And that was ignoring the misery and heartache.

Spree... Spree might have actually been worse. The thought of hundreds, even thousands of Butcher clones evoked a sense of horror. Each of them with super strength and toughness, the ability to teleport, and all the Butcher's other powers beside. Archer's weapons could do untold damage, but he was limited by prana.

A thousand Butchers could murder a city.

A sick thought ran through me. What happens if you kill a Butcher clone?

"Saber!"

Saber was moving before Caster could shout. Spree fixed her with cold eyes then imploded. Fire rolled. Before it could vanish, the blonde knight's aura hit. The flames fizzled. The new Butcher landed half-a-dozen meters away.

The blonde knight reversed. I could already see the distance was too great.

 _Foop!_ A garnet arrow ripped through the air, piercing a haze of fire just as it formed. The new Butcher staggered, knocked out his teleport before it could be completed. Saber's body smashed into him, carrying the Butcher down onto the ground.

Archer and Caster moved quickly to reinforce. I turned to Hemorrhagia, a copy of Nanatsu-Yoru held out in her direction. Thankfully, Hemorrhagia was busy keeping Animos alive, leaving her unable to do anything but glare.

I felt better when Archer slapped the Butcher with another set of cuffs.

"This... How bad is it?"

I directed my quiet question to Tattletale. The freckled blonde was grim.

"I'm ninety-nine-percent certain that killing a Butcher clone won't copy his power, so we've avoided the worst," Tattletale said, giving me a breath of relief. "But Spree's power is very bad. It's a major force multiplier, not only for the all the powers the Butcher has now, but for all the powers he might get in the future. This has the potential to go out of control. Like A-class catastrophe out of control."

She didn't need to say more than that.

"I cannot keep this up indefinitely," Saber stated.

Saber's heavy aura was like storm. Its sheer mass blew away all forms of thaumaturgy. But using it in this manner meant expelling large amounts of prana. There was no such thing as an infinite well. Saber would eventually run out.

Caster grimaced.

"I need my workshop," she declared. She looked toward Archer. "Contain him. I don't care how, or how far fetched, do it."

"He doesn't needs arms or legs," I pointed out. "Or, for that matter, eyes."

Saber's visage turned dark. Archer's remained blank. Hemorrhagia? For the first time, she looked scared.

"That's... actually a good idea," Tattletale said reluctantly. "Spree's clones are crude copies. Any injury he has will be mirrored in some manner upon his doubles. The Butcher does have regeneration, thanks to number five, and fast healing. So it won't be permanent."

"We can make it permanent," I added coldly, remembering Lung.

There was no sense playing nice. The Butcher had gone from threat to catastrophe. Keeping him crippled for the rest of his fifteenth life was just good sense. Hopefully, should he have an iteration thereafter, Spree's cloning power would degrade to manageable levels.

Archer stepped forward. A heavy battleaxe formed in his hands. "Hold him still."

The blade fell with a revolting _crunch_. Archer raised the weapon again, like a machine, never blinking. His expression stood in sharp contrast to that of his partners. Saber, who held the Butcher's limbs, her visage twisted by unpleasant duty. Caster, who could not help but look away when axe smashed through the Butcher's second arm.

It struck me how odd it was that Archer was the firmest when it was he who pushed so hard to save villain lives.

Then I wondered, what does this say about me?

"Monsters," Hemorrhagia said. The woman's face was a mix of hate and horror. "You aren't heroes, you're monsters."

I turned toward her. She looked up angry, defiant. But I could see how her shoulders scrunched with fear and how her hands trembled.

"When you're done, load him into the car. As for the others." Caster paused then huffed, flipping her hair as she looked away. "Forget them. The Protectorate can round them up or they can escape. I don't care anymore."

With that said, Caster headed for the sedan. With a word, bricks began to pick themselves up, repairing the damaged wall and freeing Saber's ship. Caster's gesture had been dismissive, but I wasn't fooled. I had seen her flinch. Caster couldn't bear to watch any longer.

As for me. I didn't turn as the axe rose a third time. The mirrored blade was stained with blood, but for a moment I caught my distorted reflection. Dark, chitinous silk covered in thick layers of crimson. A nightmare drenched in death. The image seared its way into my soul.

Then the axe fell.

 _Crunch._


	16. Chapter 16

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 16  
** -oOo-

Accord let out a hiss of pain.

"Sorry, Sir."

Despite his apology, Shiftstate continued to push the needle through Accord's skin. The Shaker's hands remained smooth and steady, in defiance to the pavement rumbling beneath.

The two of them were in the back of a sleek, black limo. A dedicated driver handled the road, which left Shiftstate free to treat his boss's wounds. In ordinary times, Shiftstate wouldn't have been Accord's first choice. Citrine's hands were more stable, and Accord wasn't so saintly as to not prefer a beautiful woman's touch.

But beggars couldn't be choosers.

The needle pierced his skin again. Accord twitched. It wasn't pain that made him move. It was irritation. The imperfections of the moment. His unbuttoned white suit. His exposed chest. The crimson stains that crawled through the flawless fabric.

But most of all, it was Shiftstate's subtly uneven stitches.

They grated on him. Like razor blades running through his brain. An accumulation of annoyances that provoked within him murderous intentions.

Accord resisted the impulse. His white knuckled hands clutched at his cane, as though to strangle the desire with pure force.

Sometimes life's discomforts had to be ignored.

"Turn right at the next intersection, then proceed through three lights before turning left again," Accord commanded.

His voice was sharp, tinged with his anger. Shiftstate trembled, and almost thrust the needled out of place. At the last second, the Shaker steadied his hand. Accord said nothing. Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed Shiftstate the chance to diligently complete his task.

Green. Green. Green.

Accord counted the intersections one by one. The smooth flow was meditative. A cool balm to sore emotions. Accord sank into his chair, tension easing from his frame. There was an ephemeral beauty to a simple plan. At this time of day, traffic was light. Chaos could be avoided. Accord had long since memorized the timing of the lights in this part of Boston. Arranging an efficient path provided a pleasant distraction.

Alas, if only it were always so. Usually there were ruinous fools out and about, moving in ways they should not. A pollutant. A vile, poisonous entropy, that shattered the phantasmal elegance of efficiency.

But not today. Today, traffic was clear. Perfect. No obstacles at all. It was enough to put aside the needle that punched through his skin one last time.

"It's done, Sir," Shiftstate said as he tied off the thread. A pair of scissors made a snip. The work was complete.

"Your stitching is unbalanced," Accord reprimanded, regarding his subordinate coldly. "Once matters have been resolved, see to it that you refresh your training."

Shiftstate twitched. Accord noticed. Lately, the Shaker had been getting sloppy. Did the fool think he was too valuable to be disposed of? If so, it was time to get rid of him. But Accord was not one to jump to conclusions. In terms of professionalism and skill, Shiftstate had always been subpar. A deficiency Accord normally would never have allowed. If it hadn't been for the death of one his capes and the betrayal of a second, both in short order, Accord wouldn't have promoted the man.

But now, it was hard to get rid of him.

Shiftstate was special. Though Accord's memories were full of holes, he could recall quite clearly the challenges that came with purchased powers. Only weak powers could be bought with certainty. Accord liked certainty. He also liked versatility. Selecting for both came with the unfortunate result of limited combat strength. A flaw that could be seen in most of his Ambassadors.

But not in Shiftstate.

Shiftstate was a stroke of luck. That day, Accord had bought a basic Shaker power. One that usually produced a parahuman with a rating between 3 and 5. Instead, Shiftstate had been born far stronger. The PRT listed him as Shaker 7. Accord rather thought that Shiftstate was closer to Shaker 8. The numbers didn't really matter. What did was that Shiftstate was Accord's strongest cape.

And that came with its own troubles. Shiftstate was too valuable to throw away on account of a minor mistake. Yet, at the same time, that value was dangerous. People of value often got ideas, and the one thing Accord would not tolerate was any hint of betrayal.

"Status."

"Citrine reports that Unit 09 has exited the premises, but she cannot confirm the direction of their flight," Shiftstate answered.

Ah, Unit 09. Now there was a tricky subject. Precedent demanded that he take action, but riling them up was a dangerous prospect at best. Distasteful as it was to accept, Unit 09 was too strong for his Ambassadors to handle. They were powerful, versatile, and skilled. The perfect combination.

Of course, that did not mean they were unbeatable. Accord's power had already supplied several options. Some more immediate. Some slow. For instance, Unit 09 had left in a hurry. As a consequence, Accord's surveillance equipment remained intact. Releasing Unit 09's faces was one such option. So was locating their home and undermining the stability of their operations. More forceful tactics involved setting Unit 09's enemies against them. And, of course, dividing their group before conquering.

But all of those plans were unsatisfactory. They lacked definitive results, leaving Accord open to counter attack. And Unit 09 could hit so much harder than him. Further, it was clear from Caster's behavior that she wouldn't take any real injury should he leak her identity. A consideration that Accord and his Ambassadors did not share.

And should he attack their capes one-by-one? Then he would achieve shallow victory followed by utter destruction.

No. Going down that route provided great pain and little reward. But there were other options. Mechanisms not so telling which couldn't be traced back to him.

Plans unfolded in Accord's mind. Most were discarded at the outset as unrealistic, either requiring too many resources or too many things going right. After a while, he abandoned the thread. It was undesirable to recognize, but it was too early to plot against Unit 09. There were too many unknowns. Too many ways things could go wrong.

"There is a parking garage close to the meeting point we arranged. Contact Othello and have him keep watch over that location," Accord decided. "Afterwards, tell Citrine to proceed to our fall back point in Cambridge. Also, arrange for me a remote meeting with Coil."

Shiftstate nodded then quietly conferred with his partners using an ear piece radio. Accord closed his eyes and enjoyed the blessed quiet for a long moment. A lack of stimulus was always pleasing. Far more so when the emptiness was unpolluted by the nagging pain of his chest.

No matter, he could put it aside by focusing on other issues.

The assets in the Washington Street office would have be liquidated. His power provided a flurry of methods. Chains of shell companies and tax havens. The names of PRT Thinkers that could be bribed or otherwise made to look the other way. The first steps had to be executed quickly. The Protectorate would soon investigate the disturbance Unit 09 caused, and once they did, they would launch legal proceedings to freeze his local funds.

Then there were his security procedures and traps. They had to be revamped. Accord found this in particular to be troublesome. His employees were not flawless. As such, he had no choice but to withhold the more lethal measures his power could provide. Worse, Unit 09's infiltration had done nothing to change that reality. In the end, Accord could either be safe, or he could have employees, but he couldn't have both. Still, there were options at hand. The poisoned darts, for instance, could be replaced by EFPs. Accord typically avoided such tools, finding them noisy and excessive. However, he could admit their worth.

But more important than his traps were the radio check-in protocols he had established. That none of his men had recognized when others had been disabled was intolerable.

Then there was one last troublesome matter.

No. It was the _most_ troublesome matter.

The theft had to be reported.

To whom, Accord did not know. Nor did he know how to contact the other party. Those memories had been amongst the ones he left with Gaslight. A most wise decision at the time, but an irritating one now, because Accord knew quite well that he was operating on a time limit and the longer he took to respond, the more dire the consequences would become.

Which meant the all clear signal had to be sent _today_.

It was enough to make Accord grind his teeth in frustration.

Sending the all clear had been made purposefully hard. Accord had not been certain as to whether Caster could control him. As such, he had divided the signal into four parts. Two were physical and two were informational. Only when Gaslight received all four, he would release the memories he had taken. A simple, elegant design that was tedious to reverse. Moreover, doing so while Unit 09 remained in town was stupid.

But Accord had no choice.

"Shiftstate, please inform Miss Richardson that she is to bring the thumb-drive I gave her to the Cambridge office. Also I want you to contact – "

Shiftstate's phone rang.

Accord's expression twisted. Murderous rage shot through his system. A plan immediately locked into place.

There was switch on the left hand passenger door. Pressing it would trigger a pair of bolts built into the seat opposite him. From Accord's position, it would only take half a second to reach. Faster than the Shaker could react. The crossbows would fire, spearing in toward Shiftstate's lungs.

Of course, the Shaker wouldn't die instantly. And that was where things got tricky. Most likely Shiftstate would react by freezing the air surrounding him. A belated action that would be too slow to save himself. If that were all, Accord would only need endure until the Shaker died. But there was a small chance that Shiftstate would try to drop Accord through the floor. So, just after triggering the shots, Accord had to grab one of the handles up top.

Forming the plot only took an instant. Each step was vividly portrayed in his mind. The timing. The ways to ensure that everything was a success. Carrying it out would be easy. Pleasant even.

Accord somehow managed to tamp down on his rage.

"I believe I made myself clear with regards to cell phones in my presence," Accord hissed dangerously.

Shiftstate turned into a statue. The Shaker had been frozen since the phone first rang. A grave mistake. He knew it. Accord could see Shiftstate's fingers tremble, ready to unleash his power.

"Sorry Sir, I –"

"If you are so forgetful, then in the future I suggest you don't carry a phone at all," Accord cut in dangerously.

The phone rang a fifth time. Accord twitched.

"Answer it!" he barked.

Shiftstate quickly shuffled through his pockets to grab his phone. Pale faced, he brought it to his ear. His expression twisted oddly after listening for a second.

"Sir," he said, strangely. "It's for you."

It was Accord's turn to go still. It was _them_.

A chill ran through him. Accord calmed his breath even as his heart sped up. Gaslight's power had vanished the details, but Accord remembered the highlights. Most importantly, he remembered how dangerous _they_ were.

Without a word, Accord reached out and took Shiftstate's phone.

Shiftstate's cell was a simple flipback. The design was distasteful. The grip was poor. The weight in settled in his palm in an inelegant manner. The spacing between receiver and speaker was a inappropriate. The device was flawed. His power couldn't help but show him all the inefficiencies in the phone's construction. Accord's brow twitched. He had a sudden itch to contact the manufacturer and send them a list of improvements.

A clear, female voice sounded the moment Accord brought the phone to his ear.

"Our product was stolen."

Accord trembled. They already knew. How did they know? His mind stretched looking for an answer. Accord pushed down on the thought. Now was not a good time. Not without his memories. Not without his understanding.

"I apologize," Accord said, sticking to polite evenness. "Due to the contingencies I put in place, I can't currently recall our dealings. If it isn't too much trouble, I –"

"It's been taken care of."

No sooner did the women speak than did a wave of memories slam into Accord's brain. Cauldron. The canisters in the briefcase. Their agreements and dealings. The consequences if he turned against them. Gaslight had released his memories. Which meant he had received the code.

But of course he had. Such designs were meaningless before Cauldron's bogeyman.

"Contessa."

Accord's tone and demeanor changed. He relaxed, a pleasant bubble growing in his heart. With his memory came a host of plans and possibilities. More importantly, he could never hide his delight for a woman who was so utterly perfect.

"Who?"

Not so much a question as a demand. Accord pondered for a moment before answering. He didn't know quite how Contessa's power worked, but he had an inkling. Did she ask out of politeness? Did she truly not know? Or was asking simply her power's way of giving her the answer she needed?

"Unit 09."

"You have a resolution."

Contessa replied instantly, as though reading from a script. And she was, as usual, correct. Accord had a resolution. But before he put it forward, he needed to test the waters.

"I have one yes, but it comes at a price," Accord said evenly.

"The theft is your responsibility."

"Indeed it is, but this is a failure I am sure you'll be willing to overlook. You see, I happened to witness something I'm certain that you'll be interested in."

Silence. Accord's smile grew. Excellent. She didn't know. He had suspected she might not, but with Contessa it was so very hard to tell.

"What do you want?"

"Three canisters to replace the two that were taken."

"Done. Send us your request along with the tapes."

Ah. A single word and she already knew everything. What a lovely woman.

"And Unit 09?" Accord asked.

"We'll handle it."

The line clicked dead. Accord handed the phone to Shiftstate before leaning back in his seat. While he relaxed, the limo continued its rumbling progress. A few obstacles remained, but all in all today had ended in a most satisfying way.

-oOo-

"The ratio of formula capes in the Protectorate has fallen to 14.27%, with a current velocity of -1.16% per annum."

The Number Man adjusted his glasses as he spoke, cleanly delivering the latest statistics without so much as glancing at the laptop tucked under in his left arm.

The key members of Cauldron were gathered in a small meeting room. Neon lights lit white walls and tile. Other than the gathered capes, only the fake oak round table provided a dab of color. Strangely, Eidolon had always found this space comfortable. Homey in an odd sort of way. He disliked the large meeting spaces provided by the PRT and Protectorate. They felt too authoritative, too formal.

"That's faster than before. We still haven't recovered from the Simurgh's attack on Madison?"

Alexandria was the one who asked. She was a tall woman, with Hispanic features. Her helmet, a half visor, rested on the table. She looked young. A child surrounded by grown ups. Powers did things like that. Alexandria's aging had halted the moment she took her formula, leaving her with a late teenage appearance. Usually she took pains to disguise the fact, especially in her alternate identity.

"Formula output remains 16.8% below peak," the Number Man confirmed. "However, the main cause is the exponential growth of natural parahumans. We have reached the point where it is no longer possible to maintain even a low ratio of formula triggers."

While the rest of them were seated, the Number Man remained standing. He always stood. The image he cast was in sharp contrast to the others. No costume, just a plain button up shirt along with wire rimmed glasses. A pair of pens peaked out of his front pocket. A classic salary man. It was hard to imagine that this bland man had once been part of the Slaughter House Nine, delivering terror all across the United States.

"Even if we can't maintain the numbers, we can at least reduce the trend," Alexandria argued. "A change in velocity from -1.16% to -0.87% would have a major long term impact."

It was all Eidolon could do not to release a long suffering sigh.

Honestly, he didn't know why he was here.

Oh, Eidolon knew the official reasons. To keep him involved. To show their trust. Most importantly, because after Hero and Siberian he had demanded that Cauldron let him in on their deeper secrets. Sometimes he wished he had kept his mouth shut. If nothing more, he wouldn't be stuck in Cauldron's biannual status meeting.

"I'm aware," the Doctor countered. The Doctor was a dark skinned woman dressed in a white lab coat. Her hair was pulled up in a tight bun. "But, given the resource limits we're facing, I have decided that it would be more productive if our energy was spent elsewhere."

"Are we cutting back on production?" Alexandria said. Her voice echoing her frustration.

"Not as of yet. Both the statistics and I agree that formula capes provide much needed stability to the world. However, the formula – as it exists – has proven incapable of producing the kind of powers we need in order to confront our foe."

Nothing more had to be said. They all knew the reason Cauldron had been created.

"You're thinking of returning to the old formula," Eidolon said. For the first time, he sat up.

"Yes. We have no choice. All our best successes came with the old formula," the Doctor replied.

"We changed formulas because the old formula caused terrible harm for every achievement," Alexandria argued back. "Our purpose is to do more good than evil. Can we really say that if we're destroying five lives for every parahuman we create?"

"And if Scion can't be defeated, nothing else matters. We've spent twenty years chasing the new formula without a single success comparable to the old," the Doctor sighed.

"You claimed you had almost succeeded before the Simugh's attack," Alexandria accused.

"I claimed that we had made progress and were on the verge of a breakthrough," the Doctor corrected. "And that was true. But now that research has been lost, much of which had been completed by Doctor Manton. At times like these, I regret William's loss. For all his faults, his genius was quite real."

"That's another loose end we should take care of," Eidolon chimed in.

"I've told you before, the Siberian has great potential. If we can use her against Scion or –"

"We've tried for nearly a decade to set the Siberian against an Endbringer," Alexandria cut in. "We've never succeeded. I think its time we consider termination or collection."

The Doctor frowned. She shifted uncomfortably. Eidolon could see that she wanted to reach out to Contessa for advice. For once, he was glad Contessa wasn't here. Manton running loose had been sore point for years. One he knew he shared with Alexandria. And unlike her, he had never bought the excuses.

He wanted Manton dead.

"Perhaps you're right," the Doctor said, letting out a breath. "I'll talk with Contessa and see if we can come up with a few options."

Options. Eidolon could see where this was going. He didn't want options. He wanted solutions. And right now, he was in the position to push for them.

"You had better," he warned. "Because if Manton is not dead or captured by the end of the year, I'll kill him myself."

"Is that an ultimatum?"

"It's a statement of intent," Eidolon retorted. "We've dragged this on long enough."

The Doctor frowned. Before he could say anything more, Alexandria interrupted.

"Well, since David won't say it, _this_ _is_ an ultimatum. If the Siberian isn't under our control by the end of the year, I will leak intelligence proving that the Siberian is a projection," Alexandria said forcefully. "I trust you, Doctor. But if we can't use the Siberian, then Doctor Manton is nothing more than a liability. One we should have disposed of years ago."

The Doctor was silent for a long moment. Whatever she was going to say was interrupted when the door opened. A woman wearing a black suit and tie over a white dress shirt walked in. She was pretty, with wavy dark hair that brushed past her shoulders. A fedora hat rested on her head.

Contessa.

The Doctor brightened. The change in her expression was faint, but Eidolon could pick it up. It was all he could do not to glower. With Contessa's power, finding the words to make them back off would be easy. He resented it. But more than how her power could manipulate him, he resented how Contessa remained strong as his own power faded.

"Accord lost control of two canisters."

Contessa's words instantly stilled the room. The Doctor couldn't hide her shock.

"How could this happen?"

Her surprise was shared. Losing the formula was almost impossible. In its history, Cauldron had only suffered a loss twice. One involved the Simugh. The other, an escaped Case 53 with a very specific power set. Nothing else would suffice, because Contessa devoted one of her limited paths to securing Cauldron and all its resources.

That wasn't to say it couldn't happen. After all, it had happened before. Scion, the Endbringers, and Eidolon himself were immune to Contessa's power, along with roughly one in ten-thousand capes. But, for the ability to escape Contessa's gaze and the chance to steal the formula to coincide was an exceptionally rare event.

Especially since her paths operated in a manner that intentionally avoided her blind spots.

"The formula was taken by Unit 09 ten minutes ago," Contessa supplied.

Doctor Mother frowned. "I'm not familiar with Unit 09."

"Unit 09 operates out of Brockton Bay," Alexandria explained. "They popped up two weeks ago then made a lot of noise when they wiped out two villain groups on the same day. One of their capes is a power nullifier, a possible blind spot."

"I've also done a little research on their group," the Number Man added. "They are quite the interesting subject."

"Brockton Bay is where Coil is operating from," the Doctor noted. She looked around. "Why wasn't I told?"

"We're off topic," Eidolon said. He looked meaningfully at Contessa. "This needs a response."

"The security of the formula is the responsibility of the buyer," Alexandria noted, dismissive. "Let Accord handle it for now. It'll give us good data on Unit 09's powers. We can clean up after."

Contessa shook her head. "Accord has tapes. A visual record of Overmind removing her Manton limit, without experiencing a second trigger. He is willing to exchange them if we put aside his involvement in this matter."

"You did say yes, right?" the Number Man said, half teasing.

"Of course she did," the Doctor replied on Contessa's behalf. "Give him whatever he wants. We must have those tapes. As for Unit 09... perhaps it would best to let them go."

"This can't go unanswered," Alexandria countered. "It would set a terrible precedent."

"I agree," the Number Man added. "I apologize, because this relates to research I was conducting on my own time, but leaving Unit 09 alone could prove disastrous. I have strong evidence that Unit 09 is working with two additional groups. One is based in London, and the second in Egypt."

"In other words, if we leave this be we might have multiple teams who feel free to interrupt and share details about our operations," the Doctor noted with a sigh. "We can't kill them. Tapes are useful, but they don't compare with experience and knowledge. If we are to replicate this, I need them alive. More over, I need to talk to them, face-to-face."

"Then a simple shakedown will suffice," the Number Man said. "So long as they know that we won't tolerate involvement in our affairs, it's likely they'll be reserved when sharing our information. And that way, they can't complain if our next interaction is more punitive."

"You said you were doing research?" Eidolon questioned.

The Number Man tweaked his glasses. "Yes, but I would prefer not to share it because it is pure speculation at this point."

"If you have anything that might prove useful, I think it would be for the best," the Doctor countered.

"Very well," the Number Man said, sounding reluctant. "When tracing Unit 09's origins, I encountered several strange details. First, for a team to appear with powers like theirs without prior record is very unusual. Second, their affiliate teams seem equally unknown. Third, all three groups exchanged a large number of valuable metals on the black market at the same time. Fourth, there are no reports of a theft in the given volume."

The Number Man paused, allowing his words to sink in.

"All of this has led me to believe that we may be dealing with outsiders. To be certain, I have secured samples of the metals they traded and sent them to a lab for examination. As you know, all metals contain trace elements from were they were collected. If Unit 09 is indeed from another Earth, the minor variations should help prove this hypothesis."

Alexandria frowned. "All of this implies a high level of organization."

"Which potentially makes them exceptionally dangerous," the Doctor added. "If they are outsiders, we need to know which Earth they came from. If Earth Shin has gained the ability to cross dimensions, we could have a war on our hands." The Doctor paused then turned toward the Number Man. "When do you get the results?"

"The lab will provide its report this Saturday," the Number Man supplied.

"None of this has anything to do with how we're going to approach Unit 09 right now," Eidolon interrupted.

"Of course. Contessa? Can you handle this?" the Doctor asked.

Contessa shook her head. "I have no path."

"I'll handle it," Eidolon said, standing up.

Heading out and doing something sounded a lot better than listening to the others ramble. As for the important parts of the meeting? He could always swing by later and pick up the highlights.

Besides, Contessa couldn't convince him to leave Manton alone if he wasn't there to hear it.

As always, powers floated at the edge of Eidolon's consciousness. Growing. Fading. An endless shuffle. He could grab them and hold on, or he could let them dissolve into the endless sea. Right now he only gripped one. A Thinker power that highlighted key details. Good for tracking and finding evidence. It could also pick out micro-expression, making it easier to see through lies.

He let it go. As he did so, two new powers floated up from the infinite abyss. The first was a Brute power. Strong. Maybe stronger than Alexandria's. If Eidolon were to describe the power in words, he would say that it granted tremendous mass. A mass akin to a mountain. The second power was odd, but worked well in combination with the first. It let him change the trajectory of objects close to him, including himself, but not their velocity.

Interesting, but ultimately useless. The first was too strong. The goal wasn't to kill Unit 09, but to shake them down. Further, the power was too precious to waste on anything but an Endbringer. As for the second? It was too weak when operating on its own.

"Stick with subtle powers for support," Alexandria reminded. "One strong power people can believe, but if they see three strong powers anyone would guess who you are."

"I know how to do my job," Eidolon retorted. He glanced across the table toward the others. "Do we still have spare costumes?"

"Not in your size. You've grown five-point-six centimeters around the midsection since you last asked," the Number Man said. "However, I suppose we might have a few that almost fit. Doormaker, room 217-C please."

Eidolon frowned, but didn't give a response. His mortality was already at the forefront of his mind. Eidolon's flesh faded with his power, ravaged by the passing years. He knew he was letting himself go, but it was hard to stay motivated. Especially when his personal strength related so poorly to his performance in actual combat.

Not that it would stop Glenn from commenting on his image.

New powers emerged. The first was a gravity based ability Eidolon had used before in a fight against the Simugh. Strong. Versatile. At the time, it had affected an area nearly one-hundred meters in radius. Now, the Shaker effect had been reduced to five. But the strength of the acceleration had not dropped at all. Excellent for his purpose, it would give Eidolon flight capability along with a potent attack. Just as importantly, the power had already faded to a degree that it was useless in an Endbringer fight. Losing it at this point no longer mattered.

The second power Eidolon almost threw away at the get go. He halted only when his gaze fell upon Doormaker's portal. Power armor, in the style Hero used to wear. Except the silhouette was different. Black. Sleek. Dangerous. There were no half completed projects hanging off the body. This armor was complete.

Seeing it was like a punch in the gut.

How could he have forgotten? This was a joint creation. A project he himself constructed with the help of Hero. The long nights. The Tinker powers Eidolon had always hated. He'd never had the drive. But Hero had been there, encouraging him. Talking about the good they could do together. Hero who hadn't known what Eidolon had wanted the armor for. Black ops. Cauldron's dirty work.

Of course, it had never panned out. When Leviathan showed, the world had become far too busy for Eidolon to spare time as Cauldron's backup bogeyman. When Hero had died years later, the power armor had already slipped Eidolon's mind. Not that it would have mattered. After Hero passed, Eidolon could never bring himself to touch his Tinker powers again.

Melancholy and regret haunted Eidolon's heart. A distant feeling, different from the rawness he had experienced eleven years before. Now the nostalgia was heavier than the hurt. Eidolon ran his fingers over the armor, remembering shared moments. Then, silently, he pulled the black armor through Doormaker's portal.

Metal creaked, stretching and molding. The second power Eidolon had picked up was an exceptionally fine Shaker ability that could be used to manipulate a wide variety of materials. In a fight, it had no value. For this, it was exceptionally perfect. The armor expanded under Eidolon's bidding, components shifting, wires rolling. The belly grew while metal thinned.

If Hero was here, he would have berated him. But, Eidolon ignored the weakened defense and unevenly thinned armor. A new power was already taking form, rendering the issue moot. It was a kind of Breaker ability that worked by stacking twelve versions of the user across multiple dimensions. If Eidolon was injured, the power would automatically flip between instances, finding the version with the least wear and tear. As defensive powers went, it was exceptionally strong, able to fend off instant death. The kind of thing he'd normally reserve for Endbringers, but in this case using the power wouldn't bear any long term toll unless he slipped up.

In which case, he'd rather waste the power and live than die a miserly fool.

Casting off his boots, Eidolon put his legs into the armor. The metal plates automatically retracted to fit his feet.

"Give me a setup," he said.

"We need to split off their Trump," Contessa answered.

The Thinker looked straight toward Alexandria, as though sure she could provide a sufficient answer. Eidolon grunted. It was annoying, sometimes, how easily Contessa's power wiggled its way around its blind spots.

"According to ENE branch reports, Caster is their leader. As long as you can make her give the order, their Trump should obey."

Contessa nodded. "I have a path, but it will be flawed," she warned.

Eidolon rolled the armor up on its spinal hinge, then thrust his arms into their slots. The dark armored suit clamped down around him, costume and all. Cool air quickly alleviated the stifling heat. Ah. He had forgotten about the air conditioning Hero installed.

Eidolon almost laughed. Hero had always grumbled about how hot his first suits had gotten.

Eidolon rolled his shoulders and stretched his limbs. Servos echoed his motions with smooth strength. The armor performed as though it were new. Excellent. Eidolon tossed his Shaker power aside. In its place, a new ability emerged. A strong Stranger power. One that not only broadly censored memories, but also helped to wipe away lesser forms of evidence.

He couldn't have asked for anything more perfect.

"As long as you get me to the right place at the right time, I can handle the rest," Eidolon said in answer. "Door me."

A portal opened. Both of them stepped through.

-oOo-

With a heavy _clang_ , Eidolon hit the floor. Blood spilled from his chest in crimson rivulets before splashing upon white tile. Without hesitation, Eidolon threw away two powers. His gravity manipulation vanished, along with his Stranger power. New abilities grew in their place.

The process was glacial.

Eidolon sucked in a breath, agony searing down his lungs. His vision began to fade.

First to emerge was a Thinker power, one that was medical in nature. With it on hand, Eidolon instantly knew everything that was wrong with his body. No, not just _his_ body, but all eleven of his alternate bodies as well. A red scar crossed his hip. In five forms there was no wound at all. In the remaining seven the injury got progressively worse until the laceration penetrated through his prostate and gushed gallons of blood. But that was nothing compared to the puncture wound in his chest. The Trump's lance had struck hard, penetrating through one rib before passing out his chest from the other side.

It said something that, out of all the forms his power granted, _this_ was the one in the best shape.

Treatments flashed through his mind. Surgeries. Stitches. He pushed the information aside and waited for his second power to grow in. It came slow. Brute and Changer powers that had physiological transformations always did. He could feel his body adjust, becoming more durable, more redundant. Blood continued to flow out, but the loss no longer mattered. Even if every drop fled his body, Eidolon would not die.

Darkness fled the edge of his vision. Oxygen penetrated into his flesh, flowing in through skin and hair, following systems too complicated for his Thinker power to understand. Though it was unnecessary, Eidolon drew in a deep, rattling breath. The cool breeze felt like life itself.

With his situation stabilized, he cast aside his Breaker power. Realities collapsed into one. Injuries were summed then averaged. With his new Brute power, Eidolon endured the shock and pain of the transition. A healing power started to form in place of the ability he lost. Eidolon let it fade. The physiological change came with regeneration, and healing powers were too valuable to waste.

"At a glance, I would say things didn't go smoothly," the Number Man commented, offering him a look. The suited man stood over his laptop, shuffling through information at a touch.

With a grunt, Eidolon pulled himself onto a seat.

There were a number of responses Eidolon could have given to the Number Man's implied question. That he had made a gamble and lost. That he had chosen his powers poorly. That his strategy was flawed. But, in the end, Eidolon stuck with the simplest.

"I underestimated them," he croaked.

"That'll do it," the Number Man replied, conversationally. "The others stepped out for a bit. If you clean up the blood, nobody will know. Though, the red does nicely offset the white tile, so you may want to keep it."

Eidolon gave the Number Man a glower. Then he waved his hand, using his newest power to demolecularize the pool of blood. The components separated, forming a swath of carbon, iron, and other trace elements.

A second portal opened. Contessa stepped through. The Thinker gave Eidolon a nod. Moments later, Alexandria and the Doctor reentered the room.

"We failed," Contessa reported.

Alexandria frowned, giving Eidolon a questioning glance.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"The power I came in with wasn't strong enough, and over half their team could shrug off the Stranger effect I was using as support."

Eidolon coughed, hacking up a splatter of blood. His injuries were regenerating far more slowly than he felt they ought. The result was irritating. After a second of consideration, he decided to hold onto his Thinker power, if only so he'd know when he could let go of the Brute.

Grunting to clear his throat, Eidolon continued from where he left off.

"Unit 09 is stronger than rumored. Caster has augmented strength, reflexes, and agility along with a highly versatile Blaster-Shaker power. The power nullifier can flare her Trump effect so as to influence an area, though luckily she's Manton limited. But that's the end of the good news. The Trump has the same buffs Caster has, except three times stronger. That, and I'm ninety percent certain she's combat Thinker." Eidolon rolled his gaze over to his companion. "Please tell me the PRT ratings are trash."

"Caster is listed as a Brute, Blaster," Alexandria answered. "And their Trump as a possible Brute. The ratings are clearly off, but by how much is hard to tell. Archer is a power lender, and that always complicates the calculations."

"This wasn't one or two powers," Eidolon growled. "The Trump's lance cut through a forcefield, advanced alloy armor, and eleven different dimensions in a single strike. Her bike drove up walls, and the way she moved in the air makes me suspect she's a Breaker."

Alexandria frowned. The Number Man leaned in close, suddenly curious.

"If the Trump can bypass your defense, you're lucky to be alive. Two centimeters to the left or right and it would have hit your lung or heart," the Number Man noted.

"That wasn't luck. She adjusted her aim at the last second," Eidolon coughed. His wounds were taking forever to regenerate, and while his Brute power let him ignore serious injury and disregard pain, it didn't make them comfortable.

"Then she's definitely a combat Thinker."

"That's too many powers," the Doctor murmured.

"Personally, I'm more interested in the fact that they seem to share so many powers. Both Caster and the Trump have enhanced strength and agility. You also said a third could see through your Stranger power?" the Number Man asked.

"Not only did she ignore it, I could actually feel her push back against my Stranger field. It wasn't immediate, either. Her reactions were delayed and got better with time, as though she was picking it up as she went along," Eidolon responded.

"Then, if I were to speculate, is it plausible that Archer shares several of these powers as well? For instance, either the enhanced physique or the ability to resist certain powers?"

"I didn't get close enough to him to see," Eidolon retorted.

"You think all of this has a common cause," Alexandria asserted. "A cluster trigger?"

"That is the logical conclusion yes. However, between Overmind's speculated age and seemingly separate finance activity, it appears that she was added to Unit 09 at a later date. In which case, a group trigger cannot explain the shared powers," the Number Man deduced. "Further, if we take into account Accord's recent observations..."

"Then it is reasonable to presume that they have a way to add, modify, or enhance existing powers," the Doctor followed.

"Yes, though of course, this is all speculation at this point. Hopefully Accord's recordings will provide a clue."

"I'll put pressure on the PRT," Alexandria decided. "We need a better record of their abilities. But I'll need an excuse to make Director Piggot move on that end."

"That won't be a problem," Eidolon laughed, chest gurgling. "Contessa set the Teeth on them before we started. The result wasn't exactly subtle. Unit 09 will be in tonight's news. I guarantee it."

"Then perhaps we should reconvene at a later date?" the Doctor asserted. "I know I would prefer to see Accord's recordings myself before drawing hard conclusions. Further, we are still waiting on the Number Man's lab results."

"That would be best," Alexandria agreed. "The sooner I take the role of my alternate identity, the better. I'll look for confirmation of Archer's Brute status, along with any secondary evidence supporting the assertion that Overmind can break her Manton limits."

Alexandria paused for a moment before continuing.

"I'll also put the Undersiders on watch. They've been working with Unit 09, so it's possible they'll begin to show similarly diverse abilities."

"Assuming Unit 09 is willing to share," Eidolon scoffed.

"I too find that doubtful," the Number Man added. "But it is worthy of investigation. As for myself, I'll hunt down Unit 09's sister teams. Even if they do not prove fruitful for our purpose, knowing their location and limits will be valuable should our organizations come into conflict."

"I'll let all of you handle it," Eidolon decided. "I think I've done enough."

A portal opened. Without another word, Alexandria stepped through. The Number Man wasn't far behind. Contessa and the Doctor moved to the far side of the room, quietly conversing. Eidolon put their plans aside and stood.

A flick of Eidolon's eyes triggered the armor's release. Metal locks hissed and popped. The latch at his hip caught. The metal was bent and twisted where the lance punched through. Eidolon softened the component with his demolecularization power. The latch hit the ground with a metallic _clatter_. The armor's chest opened then fell back two hand spans, giving Eidolon the freedom to pull out his arms.

For the first time, Eidolon could see the hole cut through his chest. But he didn't need to look. His Thinker power already provided everything he'd want to know and more. Shredded veins and arteries were reforming. Skin stretched out, binding the wound closed with little threads of flesh. The bleeding slackened to a trickle.

At this rate, it would be a full hour before Eidolon recovered. Mostly thanks to the severed rib.

Eidolon waited until the flow of crimson stopped, then swept up the last of the scattered blood before throwing away his demolecularization power.

"The next Endbringer fight should be in a month," Eidolon commented, stepping the rest of the way out of the dark armored suit. "I need another booster."

"I have one prepared," the Doctor stated. She pulled out a syringe from her front pocket. "The time line is getting shorter."

"It's not just the duration, the effects are getting weaker too," Eidolon relayed. He flexed his bicep, offering a vein. "We need a long term solution."

"We'll find one," the Doctor answered.

The Doctor pushed the needle into his arm. Her tone was comforting. Even without a Thinker power to guide him, Eidolon knew it was a lie. The Doctor didn't believe they would find a solution. He knew it. She knew it. But, the Doctor wasn't ready to abandon him either. Not while he still had use.

The thought birthed an ugly feeling in his heart. Not because he would be thrown away. Eidolon could accept that much. He had signed up knowing that he'd be Cauldron's soldier. And soldiers were disposable. No, what truly galled him was that he might be useless in the final battle. The only fight that mattered.

Eidolon's eyes flickered to the dark armored suit. Memories of Hero haunted him. They reminded of the better days, when it felt like they were making progress rather than falling behind. Then an idea hit him. It wiggled through his mind like a worm before nestling deep in his heart. A path forward. Not an optimal one, but a way to keep himself in the game.

"I have a stopgap solution," Eidolon said, suddenly.

The Doctor followed his gaze to the power armor. "You're thinking of taking up Tinkering again."

She didn't sound surprised.

"Only to fill in the gap," he explained. "Even with the booster, switching is taking longer. If I had armor and shields, I could risk throwing away defensive powers in a fight. If I had a flight unit, I wouldn't have to worry about losing my mobility."

He was justifying himself. The person Eidolon was trying to convince wasn't the Doctor. Years ago he had never seen the point. His powers came in stronger than any tinker-tech the world had ever seen. They switched fast, giving him greater reach and versatility. Tinkering ate time and resources, of which he had so little.

Now, he had too much of both. The more his powers faded, the more important it was to hold back and let the others do the heavy lifting. At the same time, Tinkers were growing stronger. They were building off each other. Borrowing ideas and technology. Dragon had shown how powerful a Tinker could become, all but matching his effectiveness against the Endbringers.

Perhaps it was time to go back to those halcyon days. It was almost an homage.

"I think that is a wonderful idea, and I'm sure that Alexandria can get you a database of recorded tinker-tech blueprints," the Doctor answered. "Just be careful. We can't let anyone know your power is weakening. If you are seen carrying tinker-tech devices in a fight without an explanation, it might cause a panic."

Eidolon suddenly wondered if this was what Contessa and the Doctor had been whispering about before.

Then he realized, he didn't care.

-oOo-

Above all else, Coil believed in caution.

Plans were to be implemented step by step, with each piece carried out with the utmost certainty. Threats were to be examined, studied, then eliminated. Risks were to be suppressed until control could be asserted.

In this sense, Coil's power was perfect for him.

In one reality, Coil remained enclosed in his base, guarded by walls of thick concrete and a score of armed men. In the other, he sat in a nondescript van parked half-a-mile from a wealthy neighborhood called Oak Hill. One of his companies, Rampart Reality, owned a large fragment of the land in that area and was in the process of buying much of the rest. A long term project. One that promised large profits when Oak Hill was rebuilt.

Coil found it somewhat ironic that Unit 09 had set itself up in what amounted to his own backyard. He himself had been eying a plot only a quarter of a mile from their mansion.

Fate often came with strange turns.

Finding Unit 09 had been easy enough. One of his agents had dropped a tracking device in Grue's trunk. That alone proved sufficient. Obtaining a chance to test Unit 09's defenses had been more difficult. While Unit 09 was present, Coil's men never got far. It was only now, with Unit 09 in Boston, that they had a chance to enter. A chance to learn their deepest secrets and hopefully find a bit of leverage he could use to bend them to his will.

And if not that? Well, it was always good to know his enemy's weakness.

"Sir, the men are in place."

It was Creep who spoke, Coil's most trusted mercenary. A man with a certain sort proclivities. Proclivities that, when fed, ensured he remained loyal. Coil prized men like Creep. Men with needs and hungers. Especially useful men with needs and hungers. Those like Creep were easily hooked and controlled.

Was Unit 09 the same? Coil had his doubts, but he was eager to find out. The rich and the powerful were often attracted to hobbies of questionable morality. When the angelic visage was peeled back, who knew how deep the mire would extend?

"Hold for a moment," he ordered.

Coil looked past a series of knobs and screens, before throwing a switch. A monitor flickered before changing its display. The screen showed a young girl. Radio communications came with risks. Risks Coil would normally avoid. But there were times when easy access was more efficient.

"Pet," Coil said, speaking softly into his microphone. "Tell me, what is the chance that my current operation will succeed."

"I can't see it. It's fuzzy," the girl on the monitor complained.

Coil had been delighted when he obtained his pet. Her power addressed his greatest weakness, the moment realities collapsed. But soon he had discovered that she came with a fatal flaw. When his questions concerned the fate of Unit 09, his pet's answers became uncertain. Worse, this 'fuzziness' was contagious. It spread through the ranks of those within Unit 09's sphere of influence. Tattletale was already shielded to a large degree. The Undersiders and the reformed ABB to a lesser extent.

Coil loathed uncertainty.

He suspected the cause. It wasn't hard to guess. The power nullifying Trump, Saber. But this... this was new. Saber wasn't here. She wasn't in the house. So why did his pet suffer now? A lingering effect?

Or perhaps he had been mistaken. Did the issue have something to do with Unit 09's mansion itself?

Suddenly, Coil was even more interested in what he'd find inside.

"Do your best, in as many digits as possible," Coil encouraged softly.

"Can I have candy?"

"Not until later. The numbers, pet."

"I told you, I can't see it. Everything is fuzzy. It hurts to look. Can you ask a different question?" This girl's voice was weak, on the verge of tears.

"If you don't answer, there won't be any candy tonight," Coil said sternly.

The girl frowned. He could see her hands shake.

"Ten? Ten percent?"

Coil frowned. "That's only one digit."

His pet flinched.

His words were a statement, not a condemnation. One digit was the worst sort of uncertainty. The kind he got when asking about Unit 09 itself. Even the number was deceptive. Coil knew from experience that the actual value might be as high as sixty or as low as one.

In other words, one digit was virtually useless.

But it did tell him something. The mansion was guarded. Not just against physical invasion, but against Thinkers as well. That was a detail Tattletale had missed. Had she lied to him? No. Coil didn't believe it. Tattletale was such a delightfully informative woman when she was smug. Coil had always enjoyed that about her, the way she would spit in his face when brought in for questioning. Only for the truth to dawn on her as they progressed. That the game wasn't over. That she had spoiled her alternate self's chance at victory.

The twisting emotions. The horror. The taste of it was better than the girl's screams.

"I told you, it's fuzzy," his pet whined.

Coil didn't bother to reply. He flipped a switch, setting the monitor back to its prior screen.

"Tell them to begin," he ordered.

Two engines rumbled to life. A pair of vans pulled away, exiting the parking spaces beside Coil's mobile command post. Both were plain white, with the bland logo 'Palace Cleaners' scrawled across their side in blue lettering. Half-a-dozen mercenaries were packed into the back of each, their equipment disguised by duffle bags and fake uniforms.

Coil watched through his screens as they headed up, winding through the neighborhood streets before stopping in front of the mansion. Oak Hill was a quiet place. Nobody noticed as the mercenaries exited out the back of the vans then tossed their equipment over the wrought iron gate. The first few soldiers vaulted the obstacle.

That was when their motion suddenly stopped.

"It's a Stranger effect used to deter visitors, ignore it," Coil commanded, already knowing the cause.

The explanation cleared the hesitation. The rest of the mercenary group gathered on the lawn. Now hidden from prying eyes, they opened their bags and equipped their guns and tools. Six took the lead, four bearing a metal ram. The group approached the front door. One swing was all it took to blow it off its hinges.

That was when everything went wrong.

"Man down! Man down!"

Shouts burst over the radio. Coil watched as the two leading mercenaries exploded into a bloody mist. A third fell back screaming, his arm melting into a crimson goo. Suddenly, five out of six monitors went blank. White static crawled over their surface, leaving Coil's only view that of a brick wall.

"What happened?"

Coil shouted his demand. Ordinarily, he was a calm man, but that didn't make him immune to flashes of anger. This disruption threatened to upend the entire point of this operation.

"The statues. They –"

 _Clung!_

The voice on the other side of the radio was silenced by the sound of metal sheering. A moment later, a van was hit with a heavy _bang_. The last camera rolled, only stopping when the screen showed nothing but a close up of the road. Spattering gunfire sounded, the only tidbit of information still flowing.

Coil collapsed the world.

After the prior reality faded, Coil divided it again. One version of himself took a moment to double check the patrol routes, then went to talk to his captains. The other Coil remained in place, staring at his computer in deep thought.

It was clear that attacking Unit 09 at home wouldn't work. Coil had suspected that might be the case, but even he hadn't believed that their defenses would be so thorough. Unit 09's resilience was evolving into a threat. Coil thrived on information and this wasn't the first test he had carried out. Prior, he had toyed with assassination. Not so much because he wanted Unit 09 dead, but because he wanted to know what it took to kill them.

Car bombs. Snipers. Both had failed. Overmind caught his men too easily. Saber's Thinker power, while imperfect, made a hash of the best laid plans. Lung had already proven Caster's nigh invulnerability. As for Archer? The bomb his agents planted while the man was grocery shopping had been discovered and disarmed in mere moments.

Coil found all of this to be alarming.

In his view, Unit 09 wasn't an enemy. They were useful. Their claim on his city didn't threaten his own. Unit 09 took no resources and owned no territory. Indeed, it would be easy for Coil's organization to grow under their rules, gobbling up money and space. In a few more weeks, the Undersiders would fall back into his hand. And with them came a connection to the reformed ABB. From Coil's perspective, Unit 09's existence was akin to that of a vicious guard dog. One that would devour his reckless opponents while he silently claimed the night.

No, what Coil feared was the uncertainty.

His pet's power did not functioned poorly when set against Unit 09. A property that applied to Unit 09's house. The implications of this were staggering. Given time this benefit might be shared. Still, if that were all, Coil would be tempted to put the problem aside. He had survived for years without his pet, and it wasn't as though she lost all use.

The problem wasn't Unit 09. It was Tattletale.

Coil stood and headed toward the room adjacent. His pet was inside, dressed in white. The light of the television reflected off her pale face, flickering with the shifting of the screen. Coil had recently learned that his pet's power worked better when she had a means through which to observe the world. He trimmed her choices, of course. It wouldn't do if she consumed entertainment instead of news. His pet had complained, but with nothing else to focus on, Coil knew to what she would turn.

"Hello, pet," he said softly. "I have some questions for you."

His pet looked up at him. Her skin was thin, stretched. Dark bags hung under her eyes. The drugs and stress were ravaging her body. Better than last week, but clearly too harsh. Coil would have to call Mr. Pitter and let him know that he needed to adjust the dose.

"Are they fuzzy questions?" his pet asked. Her voice was frail and reedy. "My head hurts. I don't want to answer fuzzy questions."

"If you answer all my questions, I'll let you watch cartoons," he offered.

Her lifeless eyes blinked slowly. "Can I have candy instead?"

"No. Answer the questions, pet."

"If they're fuzzy, I can only answer two," she said, petulant.

"What is the chance Tattletale will turn Unit 09 against me?"

His pet winced then wobbled sickly. "Sixty? Sixty percent?"

She sounded unsure. Coil had expected that. The number was ten percent higher than when he last asked, but it was impossible to know whether the change was because the number rose or because the answer was fluctuating. It was sufficient to know the probability was high.

"And the chance Tattletale will turn the Undersiders against me?"

"Thirty-six percent."

Fast, and two percent higher than before. Within the normal range of variance.

"And if I go ahead with my plan with Grue?"

"You've already asked two questions," his pet whined.

"Answer, or no cartoons."

His pet shuddered. "Twelve point three percent."

Coil collapsed the world then divided it again. One version of himself continued to discuss plans with his captains. The other cut the meeting short then called Mr. Pitter to his office. The second Coil returned to his pet and opened the door. Once again she turned to him. This time he didn't wait.

"Two questions, my pet. If you answer, then I'll let you watch an hour of cartoons," Coil said. An offer made in response to a complaint was weakness. But an offer made preemptively was kindness. Little manipulations were how he set his hooks. Coil would never allow his pet to think that she could bargain.

His pet blinked. She looked distracted, confused. "Okay."

"If I kill Tattletale in a way that can't be traced, what is the chance that Unit 09 will turn against me."

"That's a fuzzy question," his pet accused. Her whiny expression faded when he stared at her. "Twenty percent? Maybe thirty? Its hard to tell. I don't like fuzzy questions."

Low then. At least, lower than that of letting Tattletale live.

"And if Tattletale dies, the chance of my grand plan succeeding?"

"Seventy-nine point eight percent."

Coil closed the door. He decided to leave both realities open. In the first, he was still talking to his captains, organizing them for another test of Unit 09's defenses. This time he would call in the Travelers. Sending them against the mansion would prove enlightening, not only of the their strength but also their commitment. In the other reality, he sat behind his desk and pondered. It was unfortunate, but Tattletale had to die. The only question was when and how.

The door opened. Coil turned to face the man who entered. Like Creep, Mr. Pitter was one of the men Coil could absolutely control. Mr. Pitter was a registered nurse and thus a useful tool. But tools weren't only limited to their domain of expertise.

"Sir?" the man asked.

"My pet's health has yet to recover," Coil stated. "Adjust the dose as needed. Also, it has come to my attention that my portfolio has become... overly invested. Please cancel my long term acquisitions on the North side of Brockton Bay."

"As you say, Sir," Mr. Pitter answered before bowing out.

After the man left Coil swiveled his chair. On his computer, he brought up his financial reports. He then started sorting through offerings, paying close attention to the ones in Detroit. Coil was a cautious man, and it was always good to have a backup plan.

-oOo-

 **Generalized Report on Parahuman Phenomenon  
** Filing Code: #CIL201009-6-B3  
Authors: Edelfelt, L, Eltnam, S, Tohsaka, R, and Wilbourne, L

 **Abstract  
** This report is part three of the generalized series on parahuman phenomenon, written in accordance with Section B of Enforcer Contract #CIL201009-6. The first report covered parahuman physiology. The second report covered the actualization of the mysteries sub-typed by the local authorities under the codification: Master. This report will cover the actualization of mysteries sub-typed: Thinker.

All Thinker powers thus far examined appear to be the result of three fundamental fragments: Clairvoyance, Calculation, and Destiny Interference; with most Thinker powers being hybrids thereof. While there are noted Precognitive abilities filed under the Thinker heading, none to our determination can be categorized as Divination. Whether this is because Divination does not exist on Earth Bet or because it has not yet been located remains undetermined.

The fundamental fragments mirror the current understanding of the Mages Association, though their focus, efficiency, and depth remain out of proportion to most known mysteries. For clarity, definitions will be provided here:

Clairvoyance: The collection of data by means of an actualized mystery. This may manifest as a direct power, through enhanced senses, or by exertion of a broad mystery. Known parahuman clairvoyants and clairvoyant hybrids power appear to be blocked by standard defensive measures. Further data collection is required to determine the scope of protection.

Calculation: The processing of data by means of an actualized mystery. Calculative powers often occur in hybrid forms producing parahuman abilities akin to Future Calculation. It may also occur in its pure form, as experienced and described herein by assistant author Wilbourne, L. Calculative powers are almost always limited by scope and thus cannot be compared to existing mysteries like Thought Acceleration or Memory Partition, but often exceed the function of both within their specific domain.

Destiny Interference: The utilization of magecraft to interfere with fate so as to induce a desired result. Destiny Interference phenomenon have been observed in limited high grade Thinker powers, typically those of a precognitive nature. In Thinkers, this mystery always appears as a hybrid support, where Destiny Interference is used to coerce the prediction made by the Thinker's prior calculation. Note that the purer forms of Destiny Interference are generally categorized under the local sub-types: Shaker or Breaker.

With these definitions noted, this paper will proceed by giving specific examples of Thinker powers, analysis of their composition, followed by actual collected case studies...


	17. Chapter 17

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 17**  
-oOo-

The Dojo felt strangely crowded.

The Undersiders were gathered within – well Grue, Regent, and Tattletale were there anyway. Bitch had skipped, vigorously voicing that she didn't want to talk to stupid people about stupid things. A portion of Faultline's crew was also present, invited as part of Unit 09's information sharing agreement. They had been suitably warned, but I kept an eye on them anyway. I didn't want them wandering off and getting themselves turned into chunky salsa.

The mercenary's crew consisted of Faultline, Newter, and Gregor the Snail. Gregor stood at his leader's side, seemingly patient and interested. Newter was jammed up next to the buffet table, fighting with Regent over who had first dibs on what snacks.

They were on their second plates, the bastards.

Who was I kidding? Shirou would be happy to see them enjoying his culinary expertise. That guy was too nice for his own good.

But even Shirou had his limits. This meeting was the very definition of last minute setup. Getting everyone in the same place at the same time had been a challenge. The result was a rush job. Shirou had been working since early this morning. Cooking refreshments. Arranging chairs. Setting up the computer, projector, and tripod screen. I'd pitched in where I could, of course. But mostly I had tried to stay out of underfoot.

Unlike me, Tattletale and Saber were busy. The two of them were crowded over the computer, wrestling with software. Last second prep. Tattletale looked excited. Gleeful, even. Knowing how that girl got her kicks, I was prepared to have my world shaken.

The door opened.

Rin stepped into the dojo, lugging a giant, brass phonograph. The brunette set the heavy device on an oak table with a deep _thud_ before glancing about the room to make sure everything was in order.

As usual, Rin didn't look like a cape.

Rin was in civilian clothes. A blouse and skirt combo, with her hair pulled back by a jeweled pin. I'd be tempted to say that she looked out of place, but the rest of my team was equally casual. Plain dress. No armor. No weapons. The wore nothing vaguely resembling a costume. It grated on me. Not just the clash of cultures, but how my suit and mask separated me from the rest of the group. I didn't take it off, though. If it had been just the Undersiders, it would've been different. But I wasn't ready to share my identity with Faultline's Crew. Not when I had a Dad to worry about. That, and unlike the rest of Unit 09, I didn't live in a magic fortress of doom.

"Everyone ready?" Rin announced, clapping her hands together. She looked happy.

The incessant chatter fell to a low murmur. The more responsible guests took a seat. I followed their lead.

"Ready?" a woman's voice cracked over the phonograph. "I was ready an hour ago."

Rin cocked her head slightly, a picture of false concern painted on her face. "Oh? I thought I told you to tune in at two o'clock?"

"It's three," the woman crackled back in irritation. "There is a five hour time difference between Brockton Bay and London."

"Really? How careless of me," Rin said, her tone not the slightest bit apologetic. "I must have made a mistake."

"A mistake? Oh ho ho ho. I see how it is. As a woman born to a poor, unprivileged family I suppose it is only natural that you lack proper appreciation of the complications of international travel."

Rin's smile became stilted. It didn't take a genius to deduce that the two of them didn't like each other. The brunette's irritated gaze flashed to Tattletale.

"I told you not to bother with that silly thing," Rin said, one hand on her hip.

"Just give me a second," Tattletale said, holding up one finger. "Aaannnd... done!"

The projector flickered on. Tattletale danced back from her chair, taking a standing position opposite Rin and near the tripod screen. The initial slide read: Introductions.

Rin huffed and shook her head. Then she fixed the group with a bright smile. "Before we begin, lets start with some introductions. My name is Rin Tohsaka, also known as Caster of Unit 09. Assisting me is Tattletale – a local Thinker sourced from the Undersiders. Her team, along with members of Faultline's Crew, are present."

"Caster? Really? I never thought you so conceited, Tohsaka," the haughty woman tutted.

"There is no need to be confrontational, Miss Edelfelt," a second voice chimed in over the phonograph. The tone was feminine, and much politer than the prior. "Greetings, I am Sion Eltnam Atlasia, head of the Atlas deployment. I look forward to hearing today's conclusions."

"And you may know me as Luviagelita Edelfelt, scion of the prestigious Edelfelt family," Luvia declared over the phonograph, with smooth formal tones. "And seeing as how I'm the acting supervisor of this investigation, contacting locals, Tohsaka? You're playing fast and loose with the rules."

"There are no rules against contacting local parahumans, just official government agencies," Sion corrected. "As for the Mage's Association? You know as well as I that they only care about results."

"Exactly," Rin added. "Besides, what have you offered, Luvia-chan? Because as far as I can tell, all you've done is sponge off the rest of us."

"Hmph," Luvia huffed. "As a woman of elegance, it is only natural that it take a greater period for the grandness of my vision to be realized."

"I see. Then it seems I will be relying on Miss Tohsaka for the time being," Sion replied, wielding her unwavering politeness like a knife.

"Are you ganging up on me, Sion?" Luvia asked, her words tinged with annoyance.

"By no means," Sion replied, lightly. "I certainly wouldn't speak out against the acting supervisor designated by the Mage's Association. After all, you are surely the most senior magus present, and it is most definitely impossible that the Clock Tower would appoint their own member solely on the basis of the number of magi which came from within its ranks."

"Oh ho ho ho, is someone bitter because the Eltnam family no longer holds power?" Luvia laughed. "But since you insist, then must I posit this in return. Who else should be selected except one of the two magi requested by Wizard Marshall Zelretch himself? And if one such must be appointed, who could it be but the magus with the greatest lineage? Wanting the supervisor position, isn't that like a magpie trying to snatch a prize it hasn't earned?"

"A magpie?" Sion squawked. "I won't be lectured by a damn hyena!"

"I think the title suits, because what are the Eltnam's but a lineage of thieves?" Luvia callously retorted.

"Can we _please_ proceed with the contents of this meeting?" Faultline ground out. "The three of you can return to your sniping on your own time."

"Nah, you should keep it going," Regent said before popping a cracker sandwich into his mouth. He continued to talk while rudely chewing his food. "This beats daytime drama and comes with snacks."

"If you would please begin, Miss Tohsaka," Sion spoke loudly, her tone burning with embarrassment.

"Of course," Rin said, flashing a brilliant smile as though nothing had happened. "Since everyone has been introduced, let's proceed."

The brunette took a single step forward before adopting a lecture pose.

"As most here are aware, we were dispatched to this world by the Mage's Association of Earth Tav. Our mission is to research parahumans, parahuman powers, and identify the location and nature of the hypothetical entity entitled Type-D. The interest of the Mage's Association in this affair is not purely scientific, but instead driven by evidence that Type-D's existence may have apocalyptic consequences."

Tattletale pressed a button on her control, switching to a slide providing a list of incursion incidents. Lagos, Nigeria. Katoomba, Australia. Budapest, Hungary. Some of those names I vaguely recalled from our initial meeting with the Undersiders.

"Wait. You guys are from another Earth?" Newter asked, looking around at us startled.

"That's right," Tattletale answered. "Unit-09, excepting the great and wondrous Overmind, are your friendly, neighborhood dimensional travelers."

Did she _have_ to describe me like that? Ugh. Talk about embarrassing. I gave Tattletale my best scowl. She flashed a cheeky grin.

"I'm more concerned with this apocalypse and how it relates to the Dealer," Gregor the Snail interjected smoothly.

"We will touch on that matter. As for the rest, I ask that everyone reserve your questions for later," Rin replied. "Much of this has already been discussed with my associates, and covering it again would waste a great deal of time."

"Our agreement is full information sharing," Faultline pointed out. "I'm willing to wait, but I expect you to answer my questions, no matter how sensitive."

"And I will, but for security's sake, I expect you to be careful how you share what you know. If you aren't, know that there will be consequences," Rin returned darkly.

"And not just from us. The Dealer sent a hitman after we tangled with Accord," Tattletale interjected. "Now, in our case, they treated us with kid gloves. But that was only because of future interest. There is no guarantee they'll play half as nice with anyone else in this room."

"Just for clarity, what exactly would we be dealing with?" Grue asked.

"A high level Stranger/Shaker, with major Thinker backup. Think sevens or eights on the power scale," Tattletale supplied. "Unit 09 can handle that kind of heat, but the Undersiders can't. And unless I've missed my mark, your team can't handle it either, Faultline."

Faultline shifted. She didn't look happy. "I didn't jump into this pit to become part of a conspiracy."

"And you won't have to. Not forever anyway," Tattletale answered. "I give it an eighty-percent chance that the Dealer will contact us. We're not exactly on opposite sides. You want to help your Case 53 friends. The Dealer wants a better product. We can work out an agreement that's good all around. Maybe not what anyone wants, but hey, that's what diplomacy is about."

"Personally, I'll be satisfied if I knew who I was and where I came from," Gregor the Snail said. "Finding a cure is only a tangential interest. One I pursue out of concern for my fellows in suffering."

"Good, because I can't promise a cure," Rin said. "But I can promise to improve their method. The Dealer's approach is crude. The right information and the right tools would serve to reduce or even eliminate mistakes."

"While not pleasing, I would find that result tolerable," Gregor said, nodding with acceptance.

Faultline glanced at Newter.

"Hey. Don't look at me," the orange boy said with a shrug. "I'm good with how things are already. You know that. I'm only here for the money and because people like Gregor got a shit deal."

"Since you're done with your petty affairs, I would like to hear what it is Tohsaka thinks is worthy of our attention," Luvia interrupted callously.

Faultline gave the phonograph an annoyed glance but said nothing.

"As much as I'd like to disagree with Luvia, we can worry about the Dealer if and when he contacts us," Rin's declared.

The projector flashed, bringing up a couple of images under the title Parahuman Organs.

"As everyone is aware, our team has been collecting data on parahumans. This includes the studies I conducted on the Undersiders as well as those I recently completed on Faultline's Crew. However, while much of this data has been provided by myself, I would be remiss not to call out the information provided by Sion."

"There's no need," Sion said, she almost sounded shy. "Since you're sharing your data, it would be wrong if I didn't do the same."

Luvia let out a light scoff.

"If you must know, I'm in the process of infiltrating the local research organizations and will soon be in possession of their records," Luvia retorted. "As I said, elegance must ripen before it reaches its true stature."

"And when you deliver, I'm sure it will be impressive," Rin said with deadly sweetness. "Until then we will simply have to make our deductions with the evidence collected. Evidence such as intact parahuman organs captured in their purest state."

With a smug expression, Rin put two metal canisters on a small table. Faultline sat up when she saw the prominent omega etched on their side.

"Then you've been able to confirm the crest hypothesis?" Sion spoke eagerly.

"Oh, we did a whole lot better than that," Tattletale declared, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Parahuman organs aren't just similar to magic crests. They _are_ magic crests. Or, more accurately, they _were_."

"What Tattletale is trying to say is that parahuman organs are, by any measure, self replicating alien crests. Crests which, over multiple generations, have evolved and diverged from their natural state," Rin explained.

The slide flickered again. The screen provided a parahuman organ connected to a series of lines. Beside it was an image of a crest interacting in much the same manner. The biggest difference being that in the first image the circuits aborted upon reaching the alien crest.

"This recognition has solved many of our questions," Rin continued. "Why do parahuman organs interact with the host's circuits? Why is control of expressed parahuman power surrendered to the host and not retained by the symbiote? And perhaps most interestingly, why can the host can use their circuits to alter the power expressed?"

"But though they _were_ crests, we can't call them that anymore," Tattletale added. "Thousands of generations and eons of evolutions have changed them. Some features have been lost while others have been modified. Which is why we've given them a new name. Shards."

Tattletale flicked a button shifting the screen. The title read: Dissemination of Shards: Stage One Life Cycle.

"Shards? Why call them shards rather than seeds or sprouts?" Luvia huffed. "The name is exceedingly poor as it implies that these crests are no more than a broken part of a whole."

Tattletale's grin only grew broader. "Exactly!"

Rin spoke up, claiming the flow of conversation. "The association's first error was assuming that Type-D was an Aristoteles. In fact, this conclusion was incorrect. Type-D is not an Ultimate One, though it likely shares many similarities and characteristics. Rather, Type-D is better categorized as a breeding parasite. The dissemination and replications of shards is the first stage of this parasite's life cycle."

"Fascinating," Sion breathed. "But, Miss Tohsaka, what evidence are you using to reach this conclusion?"

"There are several major data points that have served to clarify the nature of the parasite," Rin replied. "The Butcher. The collected data on Overmind. And, perhaps equally important, the data collected from the shards we retrieved from Faultline's Crew and Accord."

"Wait, me?" I said loudly.

"Congrats Overmind, you're a double trigger," Tattletale threw in unhelpfully.

I jerked back. "But when? How? I don't remember a second trigger."

"Wait. Stop for a moment," Faultline said. The woman leaned forward, speaking half in disbelief and half in interest. "Are you telling me that you know how to cause a double trigger?"

Rin shot Tattletale a glare before answering. "No. What we have deduced is _one_ of the requirements for a double trigger, and that requirement relates directly to shard reproduction. If you would?"

The screen flickered again. This time showing a blurry image of two ovals. The oval on the right was bigger than the oval on the left, though both shared the same root. The slide was titled: Shard Mitosis.

"This picture was collected using ether emission imagery, and shows a shard frozen in the midst of mitosis," Rin said, clarifying the image. "In this particular case, the replication cycle was halted by a second trigger. Despite this, we can clearly see the emergence of a second parahuman organ."

And now I knew why Rin dragged me down for another examination before I went home yesterday.

"Then the reason no one could figure out how to cause a second trigger was because they are time sensitive," Faultline said in understanding.

"Yeah, and the timing is tight. A month long window once every five to ten years," Tattletale answered. "Second triggers are an evolutionary accident and not a part of the normal shard life cycle. Usually when the shard separates it will hook onto a nearby host – typically a blood relation – where it will remain dormant until a trigger event occurs. This is why you see cape families with similar powers and why MRI scans can sometimes pickup people with latent potential."

An unpleasant expression wound its way across my face. Like most parahumans, I thought of my power as a tool, an aspect of myself. But now I was faced with the truth that my power was a living thing distinct from myself. The product of a creature that had crawled its way into my body years ago then sat there, watching. Watching without doing anything when my Mom died and my world came crashing down. Offering me nothing as my life turned into a hell.

It was a shot to the gut. My powers weren't _mine_. Moreover, what the shard desired and what I desired were two separate things.

"I have observed these latent shards myself. During this state, while the organ is present within the subject, it has yet to integrate with the host's circuits. Unfortunately, my attempts to collect a latent specimen have proven fruitless," Sion sighed.

"All this merely establishes that the shards can self replicate," Luvia interrupted. "It's a large jump from claiming a fragment of a Type can replicate to claiming the Type itself can do so."

"Hey, we'll get to it. Have a little faith," Tattletale retorted.

The freckled blonde clicked her remote again, bringing up the next slide: Stage one characteristics: competition and rapid expansion. Below the title was a graph showing the exponential growth of capes, which only started to S-curve in the late nineties.

I had seen the chart before. It was pretty famous. For years doom sayers and politicians had been ringing out terrifying prophesies about how parahumans would expand out of control. When the exponential growth had slumped, the media had turned it into a big deal. A relief. Evidence the doom sayers were wrong. Never mind, of course, that slower exponential growth was still exponential.

Of course, back then I hadn't understood any of it. Mostly I remembered the curve as a horrible, hateful thing that shot a harpoon into my dreams.

If I had known then what it took to get powers...

"As those of us who are capes know, we like to fight," Tattletale said, half-jokingly. "And that isn't just an observation, it's a well established fact supported by a mountain of psychological research. As it turns out, this conflict seeking behavior is not an accident. The first stage of a shard's life cycle is all about evolution. Quick replication. Capes fighting against capes. Power striving against power. The weak get eliminated. The strong survive. What we're witnessing right now is a biological testing ground."

"But this period won't last forever," Rin stated. "The first stage starts when a shard is disseminated by the parasite. In this phase, the shard is somewhat like a seed nestled in a fruit, the surrounding flesh providing ample nutrients. However, as the shards exercise their power, this prana is consumed. Further, this consumption is exponential, as each time a shard splits, a portion of their prana is invested into the child. As such, the initial prana supply will run out."

Tattletale pressed a button. The screen shifted again. This time showing an array of samples. Above each was a collection of bars set next to standardized numbers. There was a small flux amongst most, but the last two were distinct.

Before Rin could continue, Sion spoke up.

"Is this derived from my research on the prana storage tissue accompanying each parahuman organ?" Sion questioned.

"Yes," Rin replied. "Naturally, this data comes from the Atlas team's early extraction attempts. However, imagine my surprise, when upon observing the shards collected from Accord, I found that this tissue was rotting."

"A flaw in the storage method?" Sion mused.

"Yeah, that's what Rin thought as well," Tattletale answered. "But as for me, this was the 'big clue'. Think about it, how did the Dealer get his shards in the first place? Obviously he didn't just walk up to Mr D and ask nicely. As for collecting them from existing parahumans? How could they possibly do that and know nothing about circuits?"

"You're thinking, there is a second Type-D," I said. Not that it was that much of a leap. I had the supporting data right in front of my eyes.

"Exactly," Tattletale said gleefully. "A second _parasite-D_ , because Mrs. D clearly isn't a Type. Of course, before believing little old me, Rin _had_ to run a bunch of tests to make sure."

"Until your hypothesis has been tested, you don't truly know," Rin retorted, clearly annoyed. "I ran a elemental fingerprint on the latest samples then compared it against Sion's results. The evidence is certain. The shards collected from Accord and the tissues extracted by Sion are from two distinct entities."

"A breeding pair," Sion breathed.

"And one of them is dead," Luvia concluded. Her smooth, haughty tone had a harshness.

"If this is true, then the implications are very serious," Sion said.

"But if one if them is dead, can they still breed?" I asked.

"Who is it that said there are only two on this world?" Luvia retorted. "Where there is evidence of two, there can certainly be three."

I grimaced. Now there was a horrible thought.

"Yeesh, give us a sec," Tattletale said, waving away our questions.

The freckled blonde hit her remote twice in succession, skipping past one frame to end up on a slide named: Stage two: slow growth and consumption.

"The second stage of a shard's life cycle starts when its baby fat runs out," Tattletale explained. "At this point the little buggers start getting hungry. And that's were another mystery clears itself up. Why do shards create additional circuits? Evolutionary history can explain why they interact with circuits, but not this. Turns out the answer is pretty simple."

The slide shifted again, returning to the image of a shard attached to circuits. This time arrows and explanations showed an inflow of prana.

"To the shards, circuits are mouths."

Tattletale left a small pause, letting us digest her explanation. Rin picked up shortly thereafter.

"Much like the magic crests with which we are familiar, shards are unable to generate their own od. Further, given the nature of their mysteries, we can deduce that shard consumption will often exceed the generation capacity of the host. Thus, the shards have evolved so as to repurpose their original, vestigial connection into a digestive system. This feeding mechanism likely mimics the methodology of a magus, drawing in environmental prana so as convert it into od and accelerate their recovery."

The screen flickered again. This time the slide showed a crude picture of the Sun and Earth. Squiggly lines came down from the sun hitting tiny plants. These plants, animals, and the planet's core itself then emitted tiny black dots. Dots which, in turn, were sucked into stick humans with ovals growing out of their heads. The art was at grade school level, but it got its point across.

"In general, living creatures are net prana producers," Rin continued. "This is true not just for plants, but also for animals. However, once the second stage begins, parahumans will become voracious prana consumers. The scale of this will not be small. By my estimates, the rate should be around ten-units per circuit per day, with the average parahuman requiring four or five circuits to feed their shard."

"Which is a big problem," Tattletale interjected. "While the planet's prana production system is renewable, it's still a limited resource. The maximum number of capes the world can support is around a million. We already have over a hundred thousand running around on Earth Bet, and that number is expected to double every five to seven years."

"The limit will be less," Luvia interrupted. "A body will weaken if it can only draw shallow breaths. Prana is Gaia's air, blood, and water. If the surface levels are drawn low, she will begin to suffer even though the hard limit has yet to be reached."

"And that lower limit will be surpassed," Sion picked up. "By analyzing the rate of parahuman growth and approximating the prana consumption of the shards, I can hypothesize with a ninety-five percent confidence that the stage one life cycle will last for twenty-three point five years, plus or minus thirty-nine months. During that period the number of parahumans will increase by a factor of seven, even when accounting for mortality statistics."

"But, in the second stage, reproduction will slow, right?" Grue asked.

"Most likely," Rin confirmed. "Shard reproduction requires a large amount of prana. As such, the rate of growth will be restrained by the availability of resources. Though to what degree is impossible to say until we have a chance to examine a body of shards that have entered the second stage of their life.

"However, even in the second stage, shards will definitely continue to reproduce. And, as they do so, they will over consume Earth Bet's resources at an increasing rate. To compensate, Gaia will draw her power inward, much like how the body constricts arteries in the face of serious blood loss. As a consequence, the outer layers of Gaia's spiritual body will begin to rot."

"You talk as though the planet is alive," Faultline scoffed.

"It is," Rin answered in clipped tones. "Though not in the traditional sense word."

"I assume the consequences of this would be dire?" Gregor the Snail interjected. His words were calm, with no sign of rejection.

Luvia's voice crackled over the phonograph. "Dire? Try apocalyptic."

"The core of a heavenly body is made up of a dense ether particulate known as grain," Sion explained in clear tones. "This is the same material found in ghosts, souls, and servants. Ether is naturally malleable and easily absorbs thoughts, feelings, and dreams. As a consequence, large concentrations of grain will always generate a type of consciousness.

"It is this nature which makes grain emissions so dangerous. Ether bridges the gap between the real and the imaginary. When encountering human or animal thoughts it produces flux in the physical laws, making them erratic. This is not a direct concern for more advanced organisms, as their larger souls provide sufficient buffer. Machines and single celled organisms, however, do not have this protection.

"Thus we can say that Gaia's rot will release grain. Grain, in turn, will wipe out the bottom rung of the biosphere. Thereafter, the ecosystem will collapse in on itself. This process will accelerate as grain density increases."

"So basically everything tasty dies then we all starve to death," Regent commented. "Oh well, I never expected to make it another twenty years in the first place."

After giving a great shrug, Regent shoved a pile of food down his throat as though nothing we said had anything to do with him. Which I suppose it didn't. In a way, he was right. Capes didn't tend to live long.

"That's pretty much it, yeah. And its not something tinker-tech or science can solve either, because the laws of physics are going to get wonky and that'll do all sorts of terrible things to machinery," Tattletale said. "But what's bad for us is a feast for the shards."

The freckled blonde clicked her remote again, bringing up another slide: Third Stage: Seeds.

"Our best guess is that the third stage will begin after grain levels rise. Unlike the first two stages, this one isn't about reproduction. It's about assimilation," Tattletale said. "If you look at enough shards, or if you get real lucky, you'll run across an irregular. A shard that doesn't survive by feasting on environmental prana, but instead devours other shards. We're calling shards like this seeds."

The slide shifted again. This time the title was: "The Butcher" with a gray scale image beneath created using ether emission imagery. The picture was a spiky mess. A collage of smaller shards, fused to a larger central shard.

"Seeds are present as early as the first stage of reproduction," Rin continued. "But, as time passes, their number will increase overtaking the growth rate of ordinary shards. While it is tempting to refer to their feeding process as cannibalism, it is not. Seeds hijack the prana reservoirs of their brethren, but otherwise leave the shard intact. The result is a mass of interconnected crests. Thus far the only definitive example we have of a seed is the Butcher, but knowing their existence we can deduce that capes such as Eidolon and Glaistig Uaine are also of this variation."

"Wait, I've never heard of Eidolon eating other capes," I said.

"That we know of," Regent said ominously.

I shot Regent a glare.

"Hate to say it, but Regent is right. If Eidolon eats capes that's not the kind of thing the Protectorate would share with the rest of us," Tattletale pointed out.

"This is off topic," Rin said sternly, hand on her hips. The brunette waited a second to make sure we were quiet before resuming her lecture. "As I was saying, seeds accumulate shards. However, like their kin, they also suffer an inherent limit of growth. Not one of prana supply, but rather one of prana transport. Seeds gather their prana through a cannibalistic process and thus do not require circuits to feed. However, the host soul must still carry sufficient circuits to manage the transference of prana amongst the subsumed shards. And when it comes to circuits, the human soul can only carry so many."

"This explanation is overly technical," Faultline criticized. "Be more succinct."

Rin frowned, but took the appraisal to heart. After a moment's pause, the brunette's eyes brightened. "Ah. I suppose another way to say it is that Eidolon and Glaistig Uaine represent the peak a seed can display. If pressed, a strong soul might be able to go a bit further. But only a bit."

"Then we can kill them," I concluded.

As amazing as Eidolon power might be, defeating him was imaginable. But no sooner than did I think it, than did a nagging feeling pull at my gut. If Eidolon was the limit, how could the Endbringers exist? Were they something different? For that matter, there was Scion. The golden man. The first cape. The strongest cape. A parahuman so strong he could go toe-to-toe with an Endbringer and win.

Consistently.

So what on earth was he?

"Unfortunately, it's not going to be that easy," Tattletale said, voicing my concerns. "You see, the ceiling Rin gave was for a human soul, but the parasites are not human."

"I think I see how the process works," Sion mused over the phonograph. "Once the third stage is reached, the mature seeds will be fertilized. The high grain atmosphere serves as a perfect incubator for spiritual beings. The alien zygote will feed on the ether particulate, growing until the host is subsumed. As such, the resulting being will greatly exceed human limits. Indeed, it could even reach or surpass the strength of a Type."

"That's quite the conjecture," Faultline grunted.

"It is a reasonable conclusion, drawn after analyzing various paths," Sion replied. "The presence of two of parasites indicates binary reproduction. However, the process described thus far by Miss Tohsaka has been asexual. Further, given the shard's life cycle and evolution, it is unlikely that the creature would ignore the benefits of grain ether. Likewise, the parasite's success would be too restrained if it were restricted by the capacity of the host."

Sion let a sigh of delight.

"It is a truly fascinating creature," she said. "Indeed, rather than a single species, it might be more accurate to say we are dealing with two or three distinct species that have a symbiotic reproductive cycle."

"Thank you, Sion," Rin replied. "Though there is still a lot more work to be done before I can prove my hypothesis."

"Prove it? Come on, don't you guys trust me?" Tattletale asked, flashing her foxy smile.

"That's not how science works," Rin deadpanned.

"At this point, we can't even say for sure that these zygotes are real," Faultline asserted.

"If Miss Tohsaka did not find one in the Butcher, we will likely not see one until the third stage is reached," Sion admitted.

"There wasn't one," Rin answered. "But if Luvia wants to make herself useful, she can break into the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center and grab Glaistig Uaine."

"Believe me, I'm tempted if only to prove I can, Tohsaka," Luvia retorted.

I spoke up before Rin and the others could descend into another round of sniping.

"What does this mean for Earth Bet?" I asked. I directed my gaze toward the brunette. "When we met the Undersiders, you told us that should capes prove to be the 'infection' the Mage's Association will isolate this world."

This wasn't a small matter. I lived here. My Dad lived here. Everyone and everything I knew and cared about lived on this world. Unit 09 could take off and leave. Same with Luvia and Sion. Maybe they'd take me with them. No, I was certain they would if I asked – supposing Alaya wouldn't ice me the moment I set foot on Earth Tav. Hell, they'd probably take my Dad.

But it was impossible to take the planet.

"We cannot leave billions to die," Shirou stated firmly. "The parasite has to be eliminated."

"I concur," Saber added, immediately thereafter. "Putting aside the question of morality, leaving this foe at our rear where it will grow stronger is not mere foolishness, it is suicide."

"While I see the rationality of your argument, this world cannot be saved," Sion countered. "The problem is not the parasite. It's the shards. Even if the parasite dies, they will continue to spread and replicate. At this point, stopping their propagation is impossible."

I grimaced. Sion was right. Shards were an invasive species. Nothing would stop their replication. They would breed until the local ecosystem collapsed. Without the parasite, maybe Gaia would recover in time, like a ravaged island restored after a catastrophe. But humanity would be purged by the billions.

"Then we do what we can," Shirou said, forcefully. His gaze swept the room as though daring anyone to challenge him. "If we cannot prevent the shards from replicating, we slow them down. If the shards are too numerous, we find a way to reduce their number. If we cannot prevent the world's ruin, we make that ruin as small as possible. The world hasn't been lost until it has been lost."

I found my fists tightening. I wanted Shirou's words to be true, but the rational part of me didn't quite believe him. In the end, though, it didn't matter. Even if I had a chance to run away, I wouldn't. I couldn't run from this and call myself a hero. So I had to fight. To try. Then try again when I failed. To pick myself up over and over again until either the world was saved or its doom was realized.

I turned to Rin. The brunette's gaze was locked on the eyes of her partners. Shirou's visage was a mask of resolve. Saber stayed steadfast. Rin's expression twisted.

"You always have to make things difficult," Rin complained, shaking her head. Then she raised her own gaze, blue eyes firm and decisive. "If that's the way it is, then we'll start by killing this parasite."

"On the issue of parasite, I'm willing to lend my aid," Sion added. "The shards are mostly limited to Earth Bet, and without the protection of their parent, they will never overcome Alaya's defenses. The parasite, however, is a threat to all earths including Tav."

"Good luck convincing the Mage's Association on that," Luvia said. "Even if Tohsaka can muster solid evidence, those self absorbed fools would be more likely to bury their heads in the sand than to take action."

"Surely they wouldn't," Sion began in disbelief.

"Oh ho ho. Still the naïve girl?" Luvia laughed. "The mages of the Association are cowards. The moment they hear the word Type, they'll scurry into their holes and try to wait out the storm."

"But we already have documented instances of parahumans using dimensional mysteries. Given the parasite's nature, how –"

"Shards. Seeds. Parasites," Luvia declared in sudden interrupt. "These names grow tedious. They lack elegance. Grandeur. If we are to set ourselves against this plague, it deserves an appellation worthy of our stature."

"Was it necessary to interrupt me for this?" Sion replied, miffed.

"Ignore her," Rin declared. "What's important is how we approach this. I can reach out to my connections in the Church. The Executors might be willing to lend support."

"Type-Nidhogg," Luvia decided with a snap. "We shall call a fully grown parasite Type-Nidhogg. As for the shards and seeds? They will be known as the Scales of Nidhogg and the Children of Nidhogg, respectively."

"After the dragon that gnaws at the root of the world tree?" I asked. "If we're using Norse mythology, the Midgard Serpent, Jormungand, would be a better fit."

"The snake which poisons the sky and brings Ragnarok?" Luvia tutted. "Don't be so low as to equate yourself to poison."

I scowled. "I was actually alluding to the release of grain," I said, annoyed.

Sion let out a sigh. "If you insist on naming this creature, then please categorize it correctly. No matter the superficial similarities, the parasite is not a Type."

"Nidhogg is an accumulation of grain and mysteries. How is it not worthy of being titled as an Ultimate One?" Luvia tisked. Luvia sighed in lament, I could almost imagine a woman shaking her head. "You lack style and vision. How can we stand proud after defeating a parasite? Are we doctors fighting a disease? Farmers working in the muck? The name, parasite, is disgusting and unworthy of our efforts. But, if we say that we faced a Type..."

"And again, this meeting devolves into infighting," Faultline said, her words skewering spears. "While this battle in no way involves my crew, you would be better served to ask whether you can fight this creature than argue over its name."

I found myself nodding in agreement.

"If plate of fruit is set before you, do you start with the most rotten and withered?" Luvia returned in scornful retort. "That Type-Niddhogg came here, to an iteration of Earth where the heavenly spirit is thin and the planet lacks cognizance, shows that it fears Gaia. Otherwise, why would Type-Niddhogg not start its feast with the choicest cut of meat?"

"A hyena would know the heart of a parasite," Rin jabbed in snide retort. "But I reluctantly agree. At best Type-Nidhogg is Gaia's match. More likely, it requires numbers before it can safely face a planetary consciousness."

"The scale of Nidhogg's strength will certainly relate to the volume of grain it absorbs during the third stage of growth," Sion mused. "However, the weaker the parasite is, the greater the chance it came in numbers."

Sion had a point. We already knew of two parasites. What we did not know was whether there was more. The could be three, four, a dozen, or even a hundred wandering around this world. Suddenly, my mind turned to the Endbringers. In a way, they fit the profile. The Endbringers were alien creatures of immense power. But at the same time, they lacked a particular trait. Versatility. Type-Nidhogg was an accumulation of shards. The structure of its power should be ultra diverse. So, why then, were the Endbringer's so limited?

Maybe because they didn't need the other shards? Or perhaps they were holding back?

"Which, in a way, is worse. If we have hunt down a hundred Nidhoggs, it'll be almost impossible to catch them before they start breeding," Rin noted. "But before we worry about their number, we need to figure out where they are and what they look like."

"The Endbringers?" Grue asked, following my earlier thoughts.

"Possibly," Rin answered. "They're on our list of suspects, but we need to examine their construction to be sure. Scion is another we need to check."

"Scion is a hero!"

Newter's shout echoed. The orange boy stood up, trembling.

I knew how Newter felt. My gut curdled at Rin's accusation. I had grown up hearing about Scion's exploits and unwavering dedication. The golden man was practically the definition of a hero, saving anyone and everyone no matter their condition or situation. Part of me wanted to stand up like Newter, and shout out in anger.

But I didn't. Because there had always been something about Scion that felt deeply wrong. Alien. His motivations and priorities didn't make sense. Rather than a person, he was more like a machine. And he fit the bill all too well. Scion was the strongest parahuman. Stronger than Endbringers. His powers were highly versatile. He was immune to just about every known effect. In a sense, he was too strong. If Eidolon and Glaistig Uaine were the upper limit, Scion was well beyond it.

"The timing of Scion's appearance is highly suspicious," Sion replied, evenly. "He is the first parahuman to appear. Further, the initial scattered shards – Children of Nidhogg, if you prefer – emerged from amongst those he met."

Newter's expression turned ugly.

"Outsiders like you don't understand anything. Do you know how many people he's saved?"

With that, the orange boy shoved his chair back and stormed out. Rin's eyes flickered to me. My swarm shifted, following the boy to make sure he didn't wander off somewhere dangerous.

"Foolishness. Those who run from the truth will be crushed by it," Luvia remarked disdainfully.

Faultline's expression turned dark, but she remained in place. The sound of Regent's teeth crushing through a cracker was made loud by the silence.

"For now, I suggest we proceed with our contract as written," Sion said, breaking the impasse. "Defeating Nidhogg with our strength is probably impossible. Only by gathering data and proving our assertions can we convince the Association of the need to intervene."

"Hmph," Luvia huffed. "You still think those old men will move just because we ask?"

"Obviously, I cannot speak for the Wandering Sea and the Clock Tower," Sion admitted. "But I can assure the assistance of Atlas. However much my authority has waned, I technically remain Vice Director."

"Oh ho ho!" Luvia noised, with delight. "To see Atlas's legendary weapons unleashed, that alone is enough to make this trip worth it."

Rin's eyes flashed. "We need Endbringer samples."

"A matter I can easily handle," Luvia answered, primly. "I already have a pawn in the Cambridge Parahuman Studies facility. They have what we need."

"In that case, I will capture and examine a parahuman with a dimensional mystery," Sion decided. "That should provide evidence that Nidhogg can breech Zelretch's lock. If the Association is forced to admit that the parasite threatens themselves, it will be easier to gather allies."

"Which leaves the question of what our dear Tohsaka should be doing," Luvia mused.

"She is our only contact with the Dealer," Sion noted. "Opening a line of communication with their organization could provide an abundant source of information."

"While their methods are crude, I suppose they do have the advantage of years," Luvia agreed. "However, seeing as how this leaves Tohsaka with a great deal of free time, I think it best that she be made responsible for our communications with the Association."

Rin set a hand on her hip. "As acting supervisor, communicating with Association clearly falls under your domain."

"And as acting supervisor, it is well within my authority to delegate that responsibility," Luvia retorted. "Don't think you can foist that annoying thing onto me forever, Tohsaka. It was yours in the first place and I see no reason why – "

 _Click._

Rin ruthlessly turned the phonograph off.

My eye twitched. Really?

"And that brings our meeting to an end," Rin said, clapping cheerfully, as though nothing happened.

"You promised to answer my questions," Faultline pointed out.

"I did," Rin nodded. "But, unfortunately, I have a bit of business to take care of. So, Tattletale, if you would be so kind. As for you Overmind, please come with me."

With that said, Rin moved toward the the door. I fell into the step behind the brunette, only to come to a halt when Rin suddenly stopped.

"Ah!" Rin noised, turning to look back. "Saber, did you buy that thing I asked for?"

Saber stood up after unplugging the projector. "Allow me a moment, I shall procure it."

The blonde knight finished her task then lead the two of us into mansion. Faultline looked particularly sour as we left. Luckily, Grue and Shirou were there to keep things in order. I shifted my awareness, checking on Newter. The orange boy was perched on the cliff that marked the edge of Unit 09's property. Since he wasn't doing anything stupid, I left the boy with his thoughts.

Rin and I crossed the walkway and entered the main hall. Saber, who moved faster, greeted us with a smart phone twice as large as my palm. I didn't recognize the model, but at a glance I knew it was one of the fancy kinds that I had seen on TV.

Rin took the object with a dubious look.

"Saber, I told you to buy a computer," she said, holding the phone gingerly.

"And I have presented you with one," Saber stated plainly.

Rin blinked. She peered at the phone questioningly.

"Really?" she noised. Rin shook her head in disbelief. "Computers in phones, what an odd idea. What will they think of next? Cameras? Music?"

Rin... both of those happened a long time ago.

"Since this is magus business, I shall excuse myself," Saber said, flawlessly. The blonde knight nodded toward me. "Taylor, if you would be so kind as to guide Rin on this matter."

"Uh, sure, I can do that," I replied. I glanced toward the brunette, suddenly wondering if I was actually capable of it.

Rin's face heated. "I'm not that bad!"

The look Saber gave Rin was the kind a mother reserved for an especially dull witted child.

"I will admit, your grasp of modern technology vastly exceeds that of your peers." Saber's tone was painfully politely. With her part said, the blonde knight gave us a light bow then left.

Rin remained in place, her face on fire. She turned to me, brilliant blue eyes narrowing dangerously. "Don't you dare say anything!"

I raised my hands defensively. "I wasn't going to."

Because, really, what could I say? This level of helplessness beggared my vocabulary. Rin continued to glare at me.

"You better not," she threatened dangerously.

To free myself from ensuing death, I glanced in the direction Saber took.

"Does Saber have a problem with magi?"

Relief washed over Rin's face when the topic changed. The brunette immediately used the shift as an excuse to start walking. I trailed behind her.

"It's not so much that Saber dislikes magi, as she dislikes their mindset," Rin explained, rattling a pair of keys. She stopped before the basement door and looked at me. "You know how I told you that a magus walks with death?"

"Yeah," I answered. Kind of hard to forget it at this point, given how often I rammed bodily into the consequences of that phrase.

Rin pulled the basement door open. The two of us descended. My senses twanged when we passed through the bounded field. In Rin and Shirou's workshop, I was picking up several containers filled with insects. The presence that struck me most strongly was that of Mr Fuzzy. Huh. So that's were the little fellow went.

"Well, another way to say it is that a magus is a person that places the study of mage craft as more important than their life," Rin continued.

I nodded and unbuckled my mask. The air brushing against my face felt nice. Rin's words made perfect sense.

"Since there is no polite way to say it, I'll be direct. Taylor, do you think the average person values their life more or less than the lives of others?"

I froze, mask held in hand. I had a sudden, sinking feeling how this conversation would go. Rin nodded, as though reading my mind.

"It's like you thought. Since a magus is willing to risk their life in the pursuit of thaumaturgy, it follows that they are even more willing to risk the lives of others," Rin explained. "In fact, the Clock Tower is filled with despicable people that regard humanity as no more than a disposable resource."

Rin's voice was filled with disgust.

"I've never got that impression from you or Shirou," I pointed out.

"Shirou is a special case. He tends to place no value on his life at all." Rin's eyes darkened. She sounded angry. "As for myself. I was raised to view the station of a magus as akin to that of a noble. If a magus can't be said to make the lives of those in their domain better, why should they be allowed to exist?"

I gave Rin a sidelong glance, but didn't say anything. Rin might claim her kindness was merely a form of noblesse oblige, but I had known Rin long enough to see her true emotions. Her concern for others was not so shallow. If it were, Saber would never have remained at her side.

"What?" Rin said, seeing me staring.

"Nothing." I set my mask on a table, before glancing around. "So, what are we doing?"

Rin had modified the magic circle in the center of the room. In the middle of the carved stone edges was an empty round space, with seven additional spaces surrounding. Runic script ran along their edges, while connecting paths spread out like spider webs. I scanned the shape curiously. There hadn't been a whole lot of time for reading over the last two-and-half weeks, but I wasn't the unschooled newbie from before. I could tell from the circle's shape that the planned ritual either involved something flowing into the center or something flowing out.

"This? We'll get to it in a minute," Rin dismissed, her blue eyes were stern. "But before I do, I want to be clear about this. Shirou and I are unusual as magi go. For instance, in the last few months, Sion has provided the majority of the data we have on the physical construction of shards. That's despite the canisters we took from Accord. How is it, do you think, that she accomplished that?"

I frowned. I knew what it took for Rin to get her data. She had to strong arm various parahuman groups into her examination room. To do things faster, the obvious solution was to use force. But, to get greater detail...

My stomach lurched. My visage turned from disgust into rising anger.

"You're saying she..." I trailed off, not ready to voice my accusation.

"Yes, she captured and dissected multiple parahumans," Rin confirmed. "And Luvia isn't any better. She might not engage in such activities, but that is only because she sees them as crude and beneath her. But Luvia won't hesitate to kill people just because they get in her way. Remember this Taylor. Magi are dangerous people."

"Then why work with them?" I asked, my tone a little heated.

"I wouldn't if I had a choice," Rin grumbled darkly. A moment later, she sighed. "You shouldn't read too far into my words. Magi have a different culture. I won't say it's right, but I don't think that those two are monsters either. Well..., Luvia I'm pretty sure about. I don't really know Sion. Just her reputation."

Rin grimaced. "Let's just put this aside for a moment. What I am trying to say is that, when it comes to other magi, you need to be careful Taylor. After that, you'll have to draw your own conclusions."

"I understand," I said darkly.

I caught what Rin was saying. I shouldn't be so quick to judge on her words and speculations. And she had a fair point. Maybe Sion was tearing apart corpses. Or maybe she was only snapping up horrific criminals. But even then, it hard to see a context in which ripping open a living person was a morally acceptable action.

"As long as you understand," Rin dismissed. The brunette gingerly stepped into the circle then set the smart phone down in the center. "Taylor, would you move these insects out of their terrariums and into the support circles?"

"No problem," I answered, putting the matter aside. There would be plenty of time in the future to criticize Unit 09's support.

There were, to nobody's shock, seven terrariums. They weren't big. Really, they weren't much more than plastic bottles with dirt on the bottom and holes poked in the lid. So calling them terrariums was pretty generous. I grabbed two, one with spiders and the other with ants, but not before popping the lid on Mr Fuzzy's cage. The tarantula quickly scurried up my shoulder to perch atop my head.

From what I had read, I knew it was important to keep the space in the circle as clear of clutter as was possible. So instead of just dumping the plastic bottles into their spots, I screwed off their lids and used my power to lead the little buggers into the empty space.

"So...," I noised, gesturing toward the circle.

"That's right. I said I would explain," Rin responded, nodding. "Do you remember the mystery you attempted in Accord's office."

"Yeah." How could I forget. I swear, I had dreamed in hex for two nights straight. I headed back to grab another pair of terrariums. "What about it?"

"Well, given your experience, I hypothesized that the problem was information overflow," Rin began, emptying two terrariums of her own. "As you know, your power operates by connecting to and suborning minds."

I nodded. Though we hadn't talked about this since the first day Rin examined my powers, I hadn't forgotten about it either.

"The problem is that while computers are superficially similar to brains, they aren't the same thing. Specifically, computers, as I understand them, have no consciousness. No self with which to control the body. Without this self, your shard has no ability to translate data. As such, it dumps the cost of understanding onto its host."

Huh. That made a lot of sense, actually. It was like when I was reading with my bugs, or listening in on conversations. I needed to use my brain to do those actions, not the insect brains. Knowing the thrust of Rin's thoughts, I looked at the circle with new eyes. Seven groups of insects on the outside. A computer on the inside.

"Is this a sacrificial ritual?" I asked suddenly.

"You recognized it?" Rin's eyes brightened. "That's right. What we're going to do is sacrifice these insects and see if we can put a part of their soul into the computer Saber provided." The brunette frowned. "I wanted to try a broad selection because I'm not sure which kind of insect will work best. I hope this computer big enough to fit them all. It's awful small."

That was... brilliant. Brilliant enough to make the way Rin mistook physical size for computational power all the more painful. That being said, she wasn't wrong. I wasn't exactly sure how much memory and processing power an insect brain required.

"Maybe we should stick to two or three of each type to start?" I put forward. The trail of insects flowing out the terrariums reversed, leaving only a few behind. "If things work out, I should be able to copy and paste their data as many times as needed."

"Is that so?" Rin noised, cocking her head slightly. "Well, you probably know more about computers than I do."

Having settled the bugs, the brunette stepped back. She looked over the circle carefully, scanning to ensure that she hadn't made any mistakes. After a moment, Rin's face took on an evil smile.

"He, he. If Lord El-Melloi II saw me doing this, I can only imagine his expression. Hah! I'll just have to settle for his reaction when he sees my first paper on computational thaumaturgy."

… I made a mental note to have someone competent look over Rin's work before she e-emailed it, faxed it, phonographed it, or whatever it was they did in the Mage's Association. It was the least I could do.

With that in mind, I lifted Mr Fuzzy off the top of my head before setting him into the last empty space. My first familiar. My first pet. Now he had been cruelly consigned to experimental death. Such was the fate of those who tangled with magi.

"Alas, poor Mr Fuzzy. I knew you well," I said in final farewell.

-oOo-

 _ **Ether Emission Imagery**_

 _A spectral imaging technique that involves shooting ether at a spiritual body then recording the variance in penetration. The technique is very much akin to taking an X-ray, except that ether emission imagery reveals the density of a spiritual mass rather than the density of matter._


	18. Chapter 18

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 18  
** -oOo-

"Over here!"

The room was rich in dark wood and golden hues. The white clothed tables were set in candlelight. The place felt upscale. Too upscale for a teenage girl wearing a hoodie and jeans. I felt awkward. Out of place. Lisa waved wildly. I adjusted my clothes, hoping to fit in. It was a lost cause. Even during off hours on a quiet Sunday afternoon, two kids stuck out.

"Looks pricey," I commented, glancing around.

"Sometimes you have to splurge," Lisa returned.

I pushed back my hood and sat. "I've never had Thai."

"Then you're in for a treat," Lisa replied with an excited smile. Her expression fell when she sighted my still grumpy presence. "Really, Taylor. Relax. Enjoy yourself. No one cares."

I flipped open the book that sat before me. A quick glance at the menu was enough to show my ignorance. I didn't recognize a single dish, and the numbers on the right were intimidatingly large. If I needed a reminder as to why Dad and I rarely ate out, this was it. Price. We weren't poor, but we weren't rich either. Spare cash had better uses. At least, that was what we told ourselves.

Reality was, we rarely made the time.

"I wish you'd said that we were meeting at a place like this," I grumbled. "I would've put on something decent."

Intellectually, I knew I had more than enough money to afford the high prices, but my heart had yet to recognize it. Hell, if anything, I had too much money. A week ago Rin had provided my first paycheck. Fifty-seven-thousand. Salary and cut included.

And half of it was cash.

I still didn't know what I was going to do with it, but leaving it stuck under my bed definitely wasn't it.

Lisa smirked teasingly. "Ha! How many weeks has it been, and you're already falling for Rin's Stepford Wives plot."

I had to set down my menu. "Really? Stepford Wives," I deadpanned.

"Oh, don't give me that. You know what I'm talking about," Lisa said, conspiratorially. "Rin's stuffed that closet of yours full of prim and proper, good girl clothes."

Yeah, Rin had certainly stuffed my closet full of clothes, but they were a far cry from Stepford Wives. And that was accounting for Rin's rather feminine sense of style. I mean, really, it had been nearly three weeks and I had yet to see the brunette outside of a skirt. That wasn't to say Rin lacked taste. She was just... well... more traditional than I liked.

Besides.

"Don't think I didn't notice the skanky stuff you jammed in there right beside it," I retorted, giving Lisa the evil eye.

Lisa leaned forward, wearing a smug smile. "Uh huh. Go ahead. Say that again while wearing a pair of jeans I picked out."

"They're the only good pair I have," I shot back defensively.

I shifted, embarrassed I was caught. Privately, I was will to admit the jeans Lisa bought had their merits. The most important being their decided lack of holes. As for how they hugged my curves? I wasn't fond of it. At all. No matter how good they looked.

"Really, Taylor. You need to learn how to let go and live a little," Lisa said, rolling her eyes. The freckled blonde leaned back in her chair. "We're young. We're girls. There's no need to get embarrassed about dressing up."

"I'm not embarrassed. I just don't like tight jeans or skirts," I retorted, feeling miffed.

I picked up the menu again and hoped Lisa would drop the subject. I should have known better.

"Oh please. Cut the crap, Taylor. You can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me. Thinker, remember," Lisa said, tapping her head in emphasis.

I dropped the menu with a scowl. This time I didn't bother to hide my irritation.

"Can't you take a hint and leave it?"

"Yeah, no, that's not going to happen," Lisa retorted. "You wear hoodies and muted colors, but it's not because you like it. You've got a major hang up, Taylor, and we both know it. Now, I was going to leave it well enough alone and hope that things would take care of themselves. But given how stubborn you insist on being, they obviously won't. So how about you stop with the bullshit and tell me the truth."

My scowl turned into an ugly glower. This was not what I came here for.

"Did you ever think that maybe I don't like to show off because I don't have anything to show?" I snapped.

My mind flashed to Madison and her perfect girlish cuteness. To Emma and her flawless figure. I knew what kind of girl I was, and beautiful definitely wasn't it. I was tall, gangly, skin and bones with a pudgy tummy. Not a hint of womanly curves were to be found anywhere upon om. I'd been told I looked like an upright toad. It hurt. It hurt because, when I looked into the mirror, I knew it wasn't a complete lie.

I hated it. I hated that I hated it. I liked to think that I was above the stupid vanities that teenage girls fought over. At times, I could almost convince myself that I was right.

"Shit. Of all the things, it's body image issues?" Lisa sounded disgusted as she shook her head.

I folded my arms under my chest and glared.

"Oh, don't give me that," Lisa shot back, looking annoyed. "You're telling me you've got nothing to show? Are you stupid? Or are you trying to make fun of me?"

"Is this the part where you tell me every girl is beautiful in her own way?" I retorted with callous cynicism.

"Yeah, no. You know I don't believe that shit anymore than you do," Lisa dismissed. "Lets cut to the chase and lay down the facts. You're fit. Young. Healthy. That might not sound like much to you, but those three things alone put you in the upper half, if not the upper third of all girls. Your body is a bit stretched because, hey, you're growing. But, despite what you seem to think, it's not at the level it hurts."

My scowl remained in place while Lisa continued drumming off points, relentlessly.

"You've got a nice face. Good bone structure. Pretty eyes. Smooth skin. Congrats, you're in the upper quarter. Then there's that hair of yours. Which, I swear to god, shines like you're staring in a shampoo commercial. Seriously. Just looking at it makes me want to strangle you."

"You almost had me until you added that bullshit there at the end," I retorted, my tone glacial.

I really didn't want to be part of this conversation, and I wasn't at all happy that Lisa was forcing me into it. Really? A shampoo commercial. Did Lisa actually think I would fall for that shit? Yeah, I was proud of my hair. It was one of the few feminine parts of myself that I honestly liked. And sure, I had noticed that it had gotten healthier over the last week. But a shampoo commercial? Nobody had hair that looked that good.

Except maybe Rin...

…

Fuck.

I all but buried my face in my open hands.

"Oh, that's just fucking cheating," Lisa complained.

I pinched my nose. I felt woozy. Out of sorts. My mind had yet to process what it all meant.

"My skin, is it really that obvious?"

I wasn't asking out of vanity. I had a much more practical worry.

"Smooth as a baby's bottom," Lisa declared, reaching across the table to rub a cheek. "Ugh. That's so unfair. I think I'm starting to hate you."

I flushed and pulled away. Avalon, the latest in age-defying makeup. Noble phantasms were such bullshit. No wonder Rin and Saber always looked so good. Lisa had it right. They were cheaters. Not that I had the right to complain, because apparently I had turned into one too.

"People aren't going to notice, are they?" I pressed.

I was tempted to touch a cheek and test Lisa's words. I restrained myself. This conversation had long since passed my threshold for embarrassment.

Lisa scrutinized me seriously.

"Probably not," she said after a minute. "Memories are fuzzy. People think they're static, like a photo, but in reality they're constantly changing. Makes it hard to pick up on the little details. And even if someone did notice, they'd probably think you're using makeup. Oh, and by the way, I've officially decided that I hate you."

I glowered then threw my napkin at Lisa. The freckled blonde dodged, flashing her vulpine smile.

"That won't help with me hating you!" Lisa teased.

Ha ha ha.

A presence approached, interrupting our conversation. I straightened and glanced up to find a waiter looming over our table. His smile was stiff. I could sense the irritation hiding beneath his professional visage.

"Are you ladies ready to order?" he asked.

I flushed. I hadn't checked the menu since the start. I blamed Lisa. For everything. She was clearly a bad influence.

"I'll have the Kow Lhad Nha Grapow, with pork. Medium spicy," Lisa answered instantly. Then she flashed a smile in my direction. "And my friend will go with the Mussaman Curry with beef."

With a long sigh, I handed my menu over to the waiter.

"Why did I even bother?" I grumbled.

Lisa smirked. "That's a good question. Why did you?"

I watched as the waiter left. His professional expression was less threatening now that the two of us were playing the part of a proper customer. But I could still detect a glint of suspicion. It roused in my heart a spark of injustice. Yet, even as the feeling hit, I found I couldn't really blame him. I wouldn't have trusted two teenage girls off on their own either.

Especially if I had just caught them horsing around.

"So, what did you drag me here for?" I asked, my gaze falling on the freckled blonde.

"Can't it just be two friends, hanging together?" Lisa said, a little too brightly. "Girls having fun, swapping fashion advice."

I gave Lisa a nasty glare. She just had to probe my sore spot. Then I callously proceeded forward. "The two of us have never 'just' hung, and you're the only one interested in fashion advice. Besides, if you really wanted to hang, we would've met at Rin's place. That way you could binge on Shirou's cooking."

"Hey, believe it or not, sometimes I _like_ eating out," Lisa countered, sounding affronted.

"You didn't deny bringing me here with ulterior motives," I retorted, roughly.

Usually, I enjoyed Lisa's games. They were fun... right up until they weren't. Lisa had a habit of pushing too far and for too long. And right now, she was wearing at my patience. I didn't mind that she had called me out for business, but I didn't want to deal with the pretense. From Lisa's grimace, I could tell she knew she had mucked up.

"Okay, okay, you got me," Lisa said, holding up her hand. She took a big breath and turned serious. "I have a huge favor to ask."

Of course she did. "I'm listening, but I won't make any promises."

"I need you to hack into Brockton Bay Central Bank."

For a second I failed to properly process the words.

The hell? She wanted me to hack the bank? Surely she didn't mean...? But from Lisa's expression, I could see that she meant every word of it. My shoulders scrunched. It was all I could do not to look in both directions. That didn't mean I didn't check. My swarm stirred, shifting so that I would know if anyone got close.

"Jesus Lisa," I hissed under my breath. "You can't just say stuff like that out loud."

"Nobody is listening," Lisa replied, blasé. "And nobody will think twice, unless we start whispering. If we do that the staff will start paying attention, but only because the waiter half suspects we plan to run off without paying the bill."

The freckled blonde flashed a grin. I glowered. Lisa was reckless. She liked to take risks and play close to the edge. She seemed to thrive on the danger. It wasn't a healthy habit, especially when her power had flaws.

"I'm not going to rob a bank for you," I growled, my voice as low as I could make it without sounding abnormal.

"I'm not asking you to," Lisa replied. She stopped, holding up a finger thoughtfully. "Actually, let me rephrase that. It's not the bank I want to rob."

My gaze turned cold. "Cut the bullshit."

"Remember the bank job, the one Unit 09 bailed us out on? Well, it wasn't about the money. Not for me, anyway. I had another objective. I was looking for names. Accounts. Real Estate deals. Identities." Lisa paused, then leaned in dramatically. "E88 capes."

My eyes went wide. The Empire. A flash of eagerness shot through me. I loved my team but, to be frank, I always felt that I was too slow, too weak. I constantly feared that I was dragging the others down. Shirou, Rin, and Saber were so much stronger than me that it hurt. Though I tried my best, it was impossible to keep up with the rest. I wasn't that amazing. But this... this was a chance. An opportunity to accomplish a major task all on my own. To prove, beyond all doubt, my worth.

Then, suddenly, my blood turned to ice.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Lisa replied, innocently.

"Don't fuck with me, Lisa," I said, harshly. "It's a beautiful story, but the facts don't fit. Rin and Shirou want those names, but there's no way in hell Brian would touch them. He sticks to the rules. It's practically a religion for him. So tell me what you're really after. And don't you dare try and lie to me again."

"I wasn't – "

 _Bang!_ I slammed my hand down onto the table. Silverware jumped with a _clatter_ and _clang_. Water sloshed wildly in a pair of glasses, threatening to spill out. "Don't you fucking start."

Lisa went pale. She looked around, nervously. It wasn't the waitstaff she was interested in, but they were certainly interested in us. Her expression twisted.

"It's personal," Lisa squeezed out.

Personal. Right.

"You know what? I think I've lost my appetite."

I stood then slapped four or five twenties down onto the table without so much as looking. I didn't give Lisa a second glance before walking away.

"Taylor," Lisa cried. The freckled blonde stumbled out of her seat. She was nearly begging.

I didn't answer. My heart was a whirlwind. I thought better of her. I thought that Lisa wouldn't be the type to play me. I should have known. I shoved my way out the door, not caring what anyone thought or said. The freckled blonde scurried behind, struggling to catch up.

"Taylor, please, I'll explain," she said.

Fuck. I couldn't ignore her. I stopped. Sunlight poured down upon the pair of us. Lisa blinked then squinted, her eyes struggling against the sudden light.

"You've got five minutes," I growled.

Lisa winced.

"I'll explain. Really. Just..." The blonde girl scanned the area a second time. Her expression was pale. "Not here."

I frowned.

It wasn't her words. It was her expression. Fear. Lisa was scoping out our surroundings as though she were being hunted. My swarm shifted reflexively, feeding me a flow of information. The population downtown was dense. More than a thousand persons hustled and bustled within my range. Half-a-dozen carried guns. Pistols, for the most part. Only one of them stunk of gun smoke, indicating recent use. Practice, most likely. Nobody struck me as suspicious. This was Brockton Bay. Going around town armed wasn't anything special. Plenty of people did it for self defense. Protection from the gangs.

Or, you know, because they were the gangs.

"If not here, where?" I demanded.

My tone was cool but no longer dismissive. If Lisa was this cautious, she probably had a good reason. That, or she was trying to play me again.

The freckled blonde relaxed, but the fear had not yet receded.

"Somewhere quiet but open. Thick walls. Thick enough to block a listening device. Also, it needs to be low traffic, but not empty either. And watch the windows and roofs."

I raised an brow but didn't ask any questions. Instead, a million eyes swept over the area. It took a few seconds for my mind to process the data and a few more to check all the vantage points. Then, to be sure, I put a marker on everyone within fifty meters of us. If that wasn't enough to flush out any tails, Tattletale's power sure as hell would fill in the gaps.

"This way," I gestured.

Lisa followed. The two of us navigated through the light afternoon crowd, moving away from the bustling city interior. I directed us to a shadowed alley in a round-about manner. It was a thin, forgotten space squeezed in-between a dilapidated building and a late night bar. It stunk. A metal dumpster was propped open, bags of half rotting food spilling out over the top. I put as much distance between me and it as I could, but there wasn't a lot of space to spare.

Lisa studied the location for a solid thirty seconds before she spoke.

"Did anyone follow us?" she asked.

If I wasn't a cape, I would have thought her paranoid. Instead, I triple checked just to be sure.

"We're clear."

Lisa let out a breath. Her visage was sick, waxy. Being here alone hadn't done much to relieve her anxiety.

"You can't tell anyone about this," she threatened.

I leaned against a concrete wall. Her caution was starting to annoy. "You know I won't."

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," Lisa repeated, as though reminding herself. She took one breath, then another. "You're right, Brian didn't want the names. In fact, he didn't even know I was looking for them. The one who wanted those names... it was our boss."

I blanked. "Who?"

For an instant, I was honestly confused. I had flat out forgotten the Undersiders had a boss. Well, a boss other than Unit 09 anyway. It was only now, after Lisa mentioned him, that it hit me. There was a mysterious man underwriting the Undersiders' salaries. A man who provided incentives. A man to whom the Undersiders would return on the fifteenth.

My expression twisted. I didn't like it. I had gotten used to the Undersiders. I felt like they were part of my team. Not part of Unit 09 proper, but instead a subsidiary. A group I could count on in a pinch.

Friends, of sort.

I shook my head then returned my gaze to Lisa. I could tell that she was stalling. She didn't want to answer my question. To be fair, the Undersiders boss wasn't my business. Sympathy, for a moment, crested the burning embers of my anger.

"You don't –" I started before getting cutoff.

"No, actually I do," Lisa interjected.

As the words left the freckled blonde's lips she picked up steam. It was as though a burden was falling from her shoulders. No. That was wrong. It wasn't so much a burden being lifted as a commitment being made. A die was being cast, and as it left her hand the decision became final. Doubts and hesitation were left to the wayside.

"Coil," she breathed. "The Undersiders work for Coil. And that's what this is really about. You're right, I don't give a shit about the E88. I never did. Coil was the one who wanted their names. And I didn't lie. I can really get them. But that's not what I'm after."

Coil, the big named villian in Brockton Bay that I knew the least about. I could say I was surprised but, to be frank, I didn't know enough to give a shit. Instead, I was more interested in what Lisa was after. If not the E88, then what?

The answer hit me.

"You want Coil's identity."

"Not just his identity. His passwords. His bank accounts," Lisa confirmed, offering a dazzling smile. There was a viscousness there I wasn't used to seeing.

My eyes narrowed. "You're planning a double cross."

"I wouldn't call it a double cross. Betrayal requires loyalty. Coil recruited me at gun point. As far as I'm concerned, I was never on his team, so fuck him," Lisa spat. She took a breath then met my eyes. "But he's a special case. I don't have a beef with Unit 09 or the Undersiders. Like I said, this is personal. That, and my power is telling me that if I don't do unto him first, he'll do unto me."

Lisa gave a bitter laugh. Perhaps she meant to make light of the situation. Instead, her humor made her look sick.

"Fuck," Lisa cursed, kicking a stone. The rock _clunged_ against the side of the dumpster. "I didn't want to talk about this. Today was supposed to be nice. A good meal. Friends hanging out. You help me. I help you. Everyone goes home happy."

Yeah. I got it. It was a beautiful illusion, and maybe if thing were different I would have let her weave it. But things don't always go how people want. Lisa had hit a nerve. I didn't like being toyed with, no matter how good Lisa's intentions. So, I couldn't say I was feeling particularly sorry that her gambit blew up in her face.

"You should've told me this in the first place," I sounded out eventually.

Lisa winced. "I told you, this is personal."

"Just because it's personal doesn't mean you have to deal with it alone," I pointed out. "You're a friend, Lisa."

Lisa gave me a half exasperated look. "You do know that you're the absolute worst person to say that, right?"

"Say what?" I asked confused.

"Ugh. You know what? Never mind," Lisa said, waving it off. She flashed her standard vulpine grin. "So..., you want to do this?"

I was silent for a long minute while I considered the merits. I wanted the E88 names. Maybe I'd been with Unit 09 too long, but I found that I didn't give a shit about the unwritten rules. I didn't trust them, and Coil's interest in those names was good evidence on why I shouldn't.

"Fine," I said, pushing off the concrete wall before brushing myself off. "I'm in. But I swear, Lisa, if I hear that you robbed a bunch of innocents, I'm turning you over to Rin."

"Ouch. That's low," Lisa fake complained.

I rolled my eyes. "It's what you'd deserve."

"Well, if you want to see me prancing around the mansion dressed in a frilly maid outfit, that's certainly one way to do it."

…

I wasn't going to ask.

"You got a plan?" I said, changing the subject.

I exited the alley. The stench was getting to me and, as long as we weren't talking about Coil in specific, there was no need to hide in there. Lisa fell in at my side. She looked looser now. Excited, even.

"I figured I'd let you deal with that," Lisa replied. "It's your power, and I haven't gotten a chance to see it work. So I don't know the limits. I'm more worried about how I'll handle Brian. Brian is kind of counting on our benefactor."

I reached into a pocket. My hand caressed the smart phone Saber bought. We were about a mile from the bank. No surprise there, given Lisa set this up. Could've been shorter, but I was glad for the distance. It gave me time to think. I wasn't familiar with this new expression of my power.

That said, I wasn't completely ignorant of it either.

Experience had proven Rin right. The insect minds buried in the machine worked as a buffer. I could connect to them easily. But connecting and using were separate things. I understood computers. I _liked_ computers. But seeing them from the inside? From the perspective of my powers? That was a big change. There was no GUI, no command line interface, no files, and no folders. There was no keyboard, not even a mouse.

What I got was raw data interpreted by dozens of insect minds.

And I used the word 'insect' loosely. The network had changed them. My electronic bugs were growing in strange ways. Ways that scared me. I feared that, should I get careless, they would slip out of my control. Literally, as in their digital minds might reach a level of complexity that defied the limits of my power.

Which, more than battery life, was why I kept my phone off.

Luckily, I still had Mr Fuzzy. My once familiar remained alive, bond in place. With his help, I could confidently bully the others.

Of course, the bond's survival had aroused Rin's interest, prompting my retreat. Really, thaumaturgy is fascinating, and Rin's a good person, but I'm smart enough not to hang with Rin when she gets that look in her eye. That, and I wasn't eager to create a dozen familiars only to murder them in the name of science.

"What's your boss offering, and can we give it to Brian instead?" I asked, talking as my mind plotted out an approach.

Lisa paused for a bit before deciding to talk. "It's his sister. Brian wants guardianship. And that's all I'm going to say, because I've already said too much."

"Sounds like a problem Rin could solve," I pointed out, thinking back on how she dealt with Winslow.

"Yeah, but she's not going to do it for free," Lisa returned.

Probably not. Rin was a lot nicer than she pretended to be, but she definitely wasn't a woman who passed up profit. If Brian went to Rin for help, she'd demand a couple months of service. Which was kind of what I wanted too, but I could see how the Undersiders might object.

That said...

"Worse than you-know-who?" I asked, dubiously.

Lisa snickered. I shot her a glare. Maybe next time I'd say his name out loud, then we'd see who's laughing.

Lisa's humor vanished, though she kept her sly smile. "To answer your question, no. But Rin's costs are more obvious. Our boss prefers to give incentives rather than demands. It feels free. Of course, we both know it isn't. The boss has his hooks. Nobody leaves his side without losing a pound of flesh."

I grimaced. Given that Coil was helping with Brian's sister, I had no doubt what Brian's pound of flesh would be.

"Does Brian know?"

"He suspects," Lisa stated. "Brian isn't stupid. He knows our boss is in this for himself. But Brian is the solid type. He cares about agreements and reputation. He isn't going switch sides because of a change in profits. Not without a good reason, anyway."

That fit with what I knew. Which meant, if we wanted to flip Brian, we needed a reason to turn him against Coil. Ugh. And here I was thinking in terms of 'we' when the Undersiders' internal issues weren't my problem. I wasn't Lisa. I didn't have to do things 'properly'. I had no team obligations. I could just smash Coil and be done with it. Afterwards, Brian would just have to suck it up and take whatever Unit 09 was offering.

The realization was freeing.

Brockton Bay Central Bank came into view.

The bank was exactly as I remembered it. The same concrete steps. The same glass entrance. The same gargoyles leering down from the decorative parapets. Of the great battle we had fought, there was no sign. The shattered walls had been repaired. The smashed road filled in. Rin's magecraft had washed it all away, leaving the past but a phantasm.

On PHO, even now there were those who refused to believe what had happened was real.

I could only imagine the Protectorate's frustration.

Lisa and I walked by, traveling with the pedestrian flow. There was no need to take residence in the bank. Anywhere nearby would suffice. So I led Lisa onto a side street a block and a half away. I was nervous. Excited. It had been one day since Rin's ritual. Before this moment, I had never had a real, full on test of my new power.

I wanted to see what it could do.

I pulled out my phone but didn't turn it on. Rushing in without a plan was always a recipe for disaster, no matter how invincible I felt.

"When I grab the data, where do you want me to put it?"

My power wasn't magic. It followed rules, albeit ones I didn't fully understand. And one of those limits was that I couldn't share my senses with others. What's more, I wasn't a cape with Thinker powers. The records Lisa wanted were gibberish to me. And that was assuming I tried to read them. Which I really, really didn't want to do. And not just because it would mean pouring through boring bureaucratic crap. Reading all the bank's files would take _weeks_.

And like hell was I putting up with that.

Lisa flashed a grin, then pulled out a pink cased phone of her own. It was new. Fancy. Not like her usual cell. Lisa tended to prefer phones that were cheap, nondescript, and disposable. Which made a lot of sense, considering her line of work.

"Good enough?" Lisa sounded with a smirk.

"What's the space?"

"32-Gig," she answered.

Documents ran pretty light. Plenty of room then.

I let out a breath then glanced in both directions. I was fairly confident we were safe, but I scanned the area with my swarm one last time just to be sure. No threatening gang members. No tails. All clear. Well then.

 _Anfang Käfer_.

Five circuits came to life. Bands of fire twisted in my back. I pushed. _C_ _a-chunk._ Power shifted, falling out of place like a machine pulled out of gear. My od burned then, with a jolt, fell back into position. Suddenly, my power vanished. The swarm slipped my control. Then something new formed. A new life. A new awareness. Trembling circuits. A symphony of transistors. Data danced. Processors whirled. Cords, waves, and fibers formed rivers of bits.

It was beautiful. Ephemeral. Alien. A distant sensation so very unlike the visceral, throbbing life of chittering insects. Bugs were solid. Tangible. Already within my grasp the moment they entered the sphere of my power. Machines were smoke. I could smell them. I could see them. But when I reached out, the nebulous mass slipped through my fingers like ether.

If I wanted control, I had to connect.

This wasn't a natural process. It took thought. Skill. Moreover, doing so was foolishness. I had learned the consequences of overreaching the hard way. Without a mind to provide a buffer, a torrent of data would smash straight into my brain. Numbers would sear themselves into my neural structure. Haunting arrays of hex would blur my vision. Gray matter would boil in its cauldron.

And if I was truly unlucky, I would die.

But I already had a solution to that problem.

I turned on my phone. The system stirred with life.

Circuits buzzed. Memory flipped. One by one, cybernetic minds awoke. Their spectral limbs stretched out shaking a shattered world constructed from transistors. There were no hints of the operating system left on my phone. These great titans had smashed it to pieces with the weight of their existence. The processor squealed, metal components rising to dangerous heats. I pushed down upon the ghostly minds. Rin had been right, if only for all the wrong reasons. This phone was too small for the monsters buried inside.

With my power, I put my minions to sleep. Mr Fuzzy fell the easiest. The presence of my former familiar was sharper than the rest. The others settled shortly thereafter. As the creatures drifted off, the board cooled.

I woke the ants within my data space.

Only a single pair had survived Rin's sacrifice. But numbers were without issue. With a thought, I doubled their number then doubled it again. Curious antennae twitched, crossing the gap of space, tasting distant memory. With a single step, they leapt from phone to server. There was no need for waves or protocol. My power created connections not bound by the limits of machine. Instead, the ants marched directly into the server bank then spread across the system. There they crawled, replicated, and explored.

I woke Mr Fuzzy to watch over them. The great legged spider was like a mountain. His limbs multiplied without limit. With infinite hands, he reached out and governed every core.

A map slowly formed in my brain.

It was natural to think of these cybernetic minds as a swarm. To imagine them as a mass of insects advancing across an informational plane. But that analogy was wrong. My power, in this state, was not to control bugs. It was to control computers. Every bit and transistor was dominated by my power. Firewalls, passwords, and other administrative guards were pointless in front of its strength. Whether or not a machine was connected to the Internet, my bugs could reach it. Their purpose was not to spread my power. My power was already there, enveloping everything.

No, what they spread was cognition.

My insects had consciousness. Their existence served as a concrete concept that offset the abstract. Their intelligence was a filter through which I could interpret raw data. They were a tool. A crutch. And not a terribly helpful one at that. The raw data remained cryptic. The distinction between files, vague. This power was new to me. And not just to me, but to my shard and my minions.

And we had barely learned how to crawl.

"I'm... going to need a few minutes," I admitted.

"You know, there's a coffee shop right over there," Lisa said, pointing.

I gave her a look.

"Yes, I know what you're thinking. Villainous deeds. Dark alleys." Lisa glanced around, theatric. "But, just because we're doing 'Evil' doesn't mean we can't enjoy a cup of cappuccino while relaxing on a cushioned seat."

I let out a half-hearted groan. "You're going to force me to eat out, aren't you?"

"Hey, you're the one that made me skip lunch," Lisa retorted. "Besides, you should eat something other than Shirou's cooking. It's good for you. Expands your horizons."

Sighing, I studied the shop Lisa indicated. It was quaint. A small brick location, with one window and a brown awning. I had to admit, she had a point. It would take me a while to familiarize myself with Brockton Bay Central Bank's computer systems, so there was no reason we shouldn't eat. If anything, it would be smarter. Less suspicious.

Besides, it would be nice to have a choice of meals for once. Shirou was good, but he didn't always cook what I wanted.

"Fine," I sighed, gesturing for Lisa to lead.

The freckled blonde took the fore with an infectious skip. I followed. Standing at the crosswalk was painful. I could feel the skittering electronics within. The switch that controlled red, yellow, and green. I had a sudden, terrible itch to change the lights as I willed. I stamped down on the urge. No matter how pleasant the thought may be, it wasn't worth disrupting traffic. Or worse, creating a trail that lead back to our identities.

A minute later, we were across the street. _Ding_. A bell rang when Lisa pushed open the door. The blonde looked around, searching for a seat. The place was nearly empty. No more than a pair of customers occupied the space.

I froze the moment I saw them. A sickness stirred in my gut. Three seats down, in clear view, were two faces I could never forget. Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes.

It was surprising how quick the old feelings came back. The visceral hatred. The sense of betrayal. The feeling of weakness and worthlessness. It had been three weeks since I had seen the trio. Three weeks in which I had moved mountains and obtained strength.

I had almost convinced myself that I had put them aside.

But now I knew that I had been wrong. Horribly wrong. The anger was still there. The sores were still screaming.

My expression twisted. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to lash out. I wanted to run away. To leave behind my past. To let it rot and fade until it was forgotten.

Of course, reality was not so kind.

"Oh. Look who it is. The drop out. Your mother would be so proud."

Emma's scornful voice cut like a knife. She always knew what to say. Before my mother died, she had been an English professor at a local college. She had always emphasized education and how important it was to my future. I knew it. Emma knew it. Abandoning school was like abandoning her. It hurt. Even though I was taking lessons with Saber, it still hurt.

My fists tightened.

"Wow, who's the bitch?" Lisa snarked back.

Emma scowled. Lisa met her gaze with a predatory smile. The redheaded girl pointedly looked past Lisa to sneer at me.

"You're so pathetic, Taylor. You had to run away from school just to find a loser friend. I bet you haven't even told her the truth. Like how you dropped out. Or how all your friends left you because –"

"Sorry, could you repeat that? It's hard to make out what you're saying through the tsunami of projection you're spewing," Lisa interrupted, making a show of wiggling a finger in her ear.

Emma's face reddened. She finally neglected me to look at the blonde.

"Who the hell are you?"

"The loser friend, remember?" Lisa retorted, playfully. She gave me a glance. "She's not very bright, is she? Ah, I get it. You're jealous."

Somehow, Lisa's catfight made Emma look small and pathetic. All at once, I felt the gap. Emma was stuck in the past. A school bully trying to make herself feel tall by pulling everyone else down to her level. Whereas I had moved on, grown stronger, become a hero... Well, a hero of sorts anyway.

Suddenly my emotions cooled. The anger turned to smoldering embers, leaving only a sickening stench. I didn't want to be here. Not because of fear. Not anymore. But rather because Emma's presence was a pestilent poison.

Turning, I tugged at Lisa's arm.

"Let's go. We can eat somewhere else."

"I'm not jealous of her!"

I looked back in shock. Emma hadn't just shouted the words, she actually jumped up out her seat. Her face was beat red with anger.

To my annoyance, Lisa shook her arm from my grip.

"Really?" Lisa sounded, doubtfully. She patted me on the shoulder. "I know it's good to do charity work, Taylor, but I think it's time to put her aside."

"You!" Emma babbled. I could almost see steam pouring from her ears. "I'm the one that did the charity work! Without me, she's nothing but a loser. She was a loser before, and now she's a loser again!"

"Don't talk to garbage," Sophia interrupted while standing up. "It's a waste of breath. Just put them in their place."

A cruel gleam flashed in the girl's gaze. Sophia's hand reached out and gripped her cup. My eyes widened. Before I could think, I jerked Lisa aside. A fist of hot coffee smashed into my shoulder. Water seared against flesh. I hissed, teeth grinding in pain. Lisa cringed back, wincing at the few droplets that touched skin.

My vision nearly went red with anger.

"That's assault," I growled through my teeth.

"So?" Sophia shrugged. She gave the freckled blonde a threatening look. "If you know what's good for you, you'd better stay away from Hebert."

"Are you threatening us?" I spat.

Sophia sneered, then threw a fist at my face.

I moved.

I was no longer an inexperienced girl. Since joining Unit 09, I had spent two-to-three hours a day being being beaten on... err... _trained_ by Saber. That training had been punctuated by life and death combat. Combat often guided by Taming Sari's flawless grace.

And while Taming Sari was no teacher, it showed me the path.

I swayed. Sophia's arm flew past. My upper body twisted. A straight punch caught Sophia across the jaw, with half my body weight behind it. The black girl stumbled two steps back, blurry eyed. Not wanting a fight, I let her recover.

Sophia didn't appreciate my kindness.

The dark skinned girl's visage twisted into mask of fury. She lunged forward like a cat.

A flurry of blows rained down upon me. Most landed on my arms. Two hit my gut. I reeled under the onslaught. It was clear Sophia not only knew how to fight, but was good at it. A fist slipped past my guard and smashed into my cheeks. I stumbled a half step. While I tried to right myself, Sophia's left leg whipped out in a wide roundhouse that would smash me into a table.

Unfortunately for her, I was used to Saber's speed.

I ducked. Sophia's leg flashed over my head. I helped it along its path by pressing up and in the direction of her movement. The sudden impulse threw the girl off balance. She was open. I stepped forward and planted a fist under her ribs, then second against her head. Sophia swung back. I caught her arm then whirled her face first into the table.

 _Crash!_

The table jumped. A salt and pepper shaker along with steel utensils leapt from their places before slamming back down in a cacophony. A tubby man ran out of the back, chef hat falling from his head while a wireless phone was held in hand.

"Out! Get out! I'm calling the cops!" he roared.

Sophia spat blood from where she had fallen. Her brown eyes glowered with murder. I trembled with barely restrained anger. Emma was frozen in shock. Lisa gently touched my arm.

"We should leave before things get hot," the freckled blonde said, nodding toward the cook.

I turned.

"This isn't over, Taylor," Sophia hissed, standing back up.

I spared her a glance. The sight of her shaking felt representative. No longer was Sophia strong and threatening. The hate in her eyes wasn't half what I had seen reflected in Hemorrhagia's gaze. The pressure she exuded was nothing beside the madness of Bakuda. I had a hundred ways to kill the little girl in front of me.

I had been wrong. Three weeks changed everything. The trio already stood at the edge of the horizon. Soon, they would vanish from my gaze forever.

They were beneath me.

"Yeah, actually, it is," I answered.

With that, I left. The door rang as we stepped out. I didn't look back. The two of us moved at fast walk, I let Lisa take the lead while I stewed in my emotions. Sirens sounded out ten minutes later, but by then we were well out of sight.

Lisa dragged me into a clothing shop while I picked at my coffee soaked coat. I barely had time to react before she shoved me into a changing room. A minute later, a pair of shirts were thrown over the door.

"Okay, you got a choice. Sexy midriffs or lovely lady?"

With a groan, I pulled the clothes down. The first shirt was cut high enough to show my belly button. If my Dad saw me in it, he'd probably freak. The second was a cute blouse with elegant lace strewn around arms and collar. The design was just girly enough to make me seriously consider the merits the first.

Somehow I doubted that was an accident.

"Whatever happened to plain and simple?" I asked, exasperated.

"Nope. No can do," Lisa denied. "You've run me out of two stores already, so from now on you have to deal with whatever I want."

My sigh of retort indicated an exasperation greater than I actually felt. After a moment's consideration, I grabbed the lace blouse.

"Oh. I see how it is. You like Rin more than me," Lisa teased with gloomy threat.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm just trying to be fair. Since I'm wearing the pants you picked out, obviously I have to choose a top Rin would approve of." Though, this wasn't really Rin's style... "It's about balancing powers."

"It's divide and conquer then, eh?"

While I stripped off my wet shirt, I imagined Lisa's expression of false recrimination.

"Yeah. I'm going to set the two of you against one another. Then, while you're fighting over the one true fashion, I'll sneak away in my hoodie."

Lisa laughed and left me behind the changing room door. Before pulling on the blouse, I checked myself over. No burns. No sign of injury. There wasn't even red skin. Avalon had done its work, leaving my flesh with a nice healthy glow. Looking at it now, I could see what Lisa was talking about. My skin was almost flawless. Far more perfect than I remembered. In fact, I was almost tempted to call myself pretty.

I shook my head at my vanity then pulled on the blouse. The fabric was soft and comfortable but the lace scratched at my skin. I scrutinized my reflection again. Cute, but not cutesy. In fact, the blouse was almost elegant. Better than I thought. I turned a bit and checked my profile. Hmm, actually, now that I gave it a real look, it was almost nice.

I sighed.

I'll admit that I liked to think I was 'better' than other girls. That I was different. Smarter. More pragmatic. Not at all similar to Emma or Madison who wasted too much time on style and fashion. In a way, dressing up felt as though I were betraying myself. Like I was casting aside the pride Taylor Hebert had built.

Perhaps thinking that way was natural. Humans separated themselves into tribes. They divided groups by customs and habits. If I thought that I was different, I was only deluding myself.

But, that too, was part of being human.

I decided not to think about any futher. I opened the changing room door, carrying my coffee soaked hoodie balled up in my left hand.

"Just throw it away, Taylor. You've got money," Lisa noised.

I paused and looked down on it. The hoodie was old, aged and ragged. The shirt beneath I had never cared for. "I suppose I do."

I tossed coat and shirt into the bin. Later, I'd buy a new one. A better one. But for now, I had business.

"I've got my hands on the files," I said, when we stepped back out into daylight.

During our interruptions, my power had been running full blast. My cyber swarm had explored every nook and cranny of the Bank's systems. In doing so my ability to 'see' through the morass of data had improved. Now, I could vaguely feel where the files were divided. I could even, kind of sort of, sense their names and grasp their contents. If I let my power run rampant for a full day – or better yet, a full week – I might well turn myself into a full blown mystic hacker.

But for now, being able to page through information was enough. I was already sorting through the contents, identifying file groups and their contents. At this point, I could easily pass Lisa what she wanted. Not in specific, but in bulk.

Hopefully Lisa was fond of haystacks.

Lisa's face lit up. "What are you waiting for?"

I gave her a flat look. "Don't abuse it."

"Hey. You can trust me. Scout's Honor," said the freckled blonde that I knew had never been a scout. Lisa's teasing smile turned serious. "Really, Taylor. I won't touch anything but my target."

I judged her for a second before starting the transfer. "Remember, if I find out you used me to rob anyone else, I'll turn you over to Rin."

"So cruel. Some friend you are," Lisa griped, half heartedly. She already had her smart phone open, and was poking at one of the files. "Wow, you're seriously taking everything. Not sure I have enough space. Here, I'll give you some names and numbers to narrow it down. But first, I want lunch. For real this – Shit!"

Lisa looked up with a scowl. I followed her gaze to spot a man and woman in uniform moving down the sidewalk in our direction. The man caught my gaze then lifted his radio and spoke into it. Great. This day kept getting better.

"There were no cameras, and no way to know who started what, so why are they taking the report so seriously...," Lisa murmured, deep in thought. Her expression suddenly transformed into a friendly smile when the officers got close. "Can we help you?"

The female officer looked past Lisa and stopped on me.

"Are you Taylor Hebert?"

-oOo-

"It seems you've been a bit of a troublemaker."

Shirou's gruff voice held a hint of snark. He was wearing a running suit that did nothing to cover the bulging muscles of his arms. Despite Shirou's acrid words, the man himself had a smile as gentle as a spring rain.

The female officer who escorted me to the front stepped away, indicating that I was free to leave. Shirou made a motioning gesture as he turned, indicating that I should follow. The pair of us stepped out of the precinct office and into a parking lot. The heavens had grown old, shrouding the clouds in a fiery orange. At a glance, I knew it was an hour or two from sunset.

It had been at least as many since I'd been arrested.

"Rin and Lisa are still inside."

My words were a question, but not in the standard sense. My bugs had long since located the blonde Thinker. She was next to Rin in one of the department's many offices. So I wasn't worried about her. I wanted to know what the two of them were up to.

I feared I already had inkling as to the answer.

Shirou's brief smirk didn't help.

"Don't worry about those two. Let them do their thing," he dismissed. Then he set a warm hand on my shoulder. "I'm more concerned about you."

I winced. "Sorry."

Shirou reached up and ruffled my hair, making me feel as though I were a little girl, or a pet. "From what I've heard, you have nothing to be sorry about."

"Not that." My gaze darkened and my tone trembled with fury. "I'm not sorry I punched that bit–," I caught myself. "Sophia. My only regret is that I didn't break her jaw while I was at it. No. I'm sorry that I keep causing you trouble."

To say I wasn't angry was a lie. I was furious. A deep rage roiled within me. I had my swarm. I knew well enough that _I_ had been arrested for assault and Sophia hadn't. The injustice of it had almost sent me into a rage. Thankfully, Lisa had been there to tell me to keep my mouth shut and wait for Rin and the others.

"As Rin would say it, you're less trouble than me," Shirou teased. His smile danced with amusement. "But, not by much. When Rin heard the police arrested you and not the other girl, I was worried she would flatten the precinct. So, if the building explodes, it's on your head."

I winced.

Shirou's badgering didn't have the effect he was looking for. Instead, I turned to the building I had left. BBPD South was one of three police precincts supporting Brockton Bay. The office was four stories tall with plenty of cells beneath. Only normal criminals, of course. The Brockton Bay Police Department didn't touch parahuman crime, but that didn't mean they weren't busy.

Honestly, I was surprised at how clean the building had been.

Then again, this _was_ the richest of three departments.

Like most residents of Brockton Bay, I didn't think much of the police. When it came to justice, my mind automatically jumped to the PRT and Protectorate. Two disparate entities that, to most, were a singular bureaucratic existence. And to be frank, my thoughts hadn't changed. I wasn't concerned about the police. I was concerned about what Rin was doing to them.

The trio was my problem. I didn't want Unit 09 butting in. More than that, I didn't want them to know my shame. My weakness. My failure.

But... as much as I didn't want them involved, I knew better than to step in front of a Rin who was on the war path. That woman was relentless.

"Does my Dad..." I trailed off.

Weird. For all my reluctance to get Unit 09 involved, I found it easier to be bailed out by them than my Dad. I guess it was a matter of expectations. Dad was, well... Dad.

Suddenly, I felt bad. Between Boston and Bakuda, I hadn't spent much time at home. We met, obviously. Not every night, since recently I'd been sleeping at the mansion. Yet, it wasn't enough. Too many hours were eaten by training, tutoring, and patrols. I didn't regret the time I had spent. I just wished there was more.

And that thought alone was enough to remind me how much easier it was to breathe without Winslow at my back.

"Rin hasn't said anything," Shirou answered. His gaze shifted to the building, lingering for a brief moment. "And by the time she's done, she won't have to."

"Thanks," I murmured.

The two of us stopped when we reached Saber's sedan. The sleek, black metal was smooth and uncrumpled. It was hard to imagine that Saber's ship had crashed into the side of a Rite Aid building a few days before.

Shirou smirked. "I wouldn't thank me now. Rin and Lisa are conspiring to fix the evidence against the girl who reported you."

Ugh. I scrunched my shoulders. That was _exactly_ the kind of intervention I was hoping to avoid. "Can we just forget about it?"

"Well...," Shirou trailed off his gaze returning again to BBPD South. "I suppose _I_ could forget about it, but I'm afraid that on Rin's end of things it's already too late."

Wonderful.

Shirou gave me a heavy pat on the back. "How about the two of us grab something to eat."

My stomach growled in answer. I was too hungry to feel any embarrassment.

"I'm game," I answered, doing my best to not think about the ensuing fallout. "But, I have to warn you, the last few times someone tried to take me to lunch it didn't turn out too well."

Shirou's lips curled. "I think I can handle a little risk."

"Just letting you know," I said lightly. My eye fell on the sedan. If we left, what about the others? "We taking the car?"

"I'm planning to head out after this, so let's leave it for Rin," Shirou decided.

He gestured. The two of us left the police precinct, heading for a local bus stop.

"So, do we have a target?" I asked, changing the subject only after checking that the area was clear.

Recently I hadn't done much scouting with Shirou. After taking down the Merchants, I'd been stuck with the Undersiders. It was only in the last week that the two of us had managed a few low level missions aimed at the Empire. Nothing special, really. Just following bit players and mapping out connections.

I was hoping tonight would be more.

Shirou nodded. "I want to get an early start. The Undersiders have a meeting with Machina, and Brian asked for our presence."

I frowned. Machina, the Tinker who now controlled the ABB. I hadn't seen her since Somer's Rock, but the impression she left was hard to forget. And not in a positive way, either. But maybe I was being too cruel. Machina was new. Newer than me new. She could well grow into her role.

"I thought we were going to leave Machina to the Undersiders?"

"They're being harassed by the Empire. I want to look into it," Shirou responded. "If we're lucky, we'll catch a few of them in the act."

When we arrived the bus stop, we fell into silence. As luck would have it, I hardly had time to sit before a vehicle squealed to a stop in front of us. Shirou and I loaded in, headed for the Market. Since we couldn't talk properly in this location, my mind turned inward.

I wasn't blind. Right now, Unit 09 was the biggest name in Brockton Bay. Having our team show up for one of Machina's meetings was the same as flaunting our association. At the very least, it would provide a major morale boost and solidify her control. I scowled. I didn't like being used, but in this case it benefited all sides.

Grumbling internally, I powered on my phone. After a quick check on the digital critters inside, I turned it back off. I could tell the police had poked at the device, but hadn't figured anything out.

Not that they had much of a chance. At this point, the hard drive was borked beyond comprehension. It'd take a Thinker or Tinker to pull anything out of that mess.

The bus's breaks shrieked. Shirou and I stepped off.

The Market, or as it was officially known Lord Market Street, was a bustling location. This was especially true on a late, weekend afternoon. Open stalls filled the roadway while merchants and civilians alike hawked their goods. Renting a stall on Lord Market Street was cheap. The result was a mix of amateur handicrafts, professional merchandise, and used electronics dumped as part of someone's garage sell.

Absently, I wondered how many of those 'used goods' were stolen.

I turned to Shirou. The redhead stood taller than most of the crowd and was using that advantage to look around.

"So, where we headed anyway?"

Shirou's gaze dropped to me. "I've heard there is a famous fast food joint around these parts. A place at which everyone in Brockton Bay must eat."

I paused. Then a burbling laugh rose up from my chest. "You _,_ of all people, want to go to Fugly Bob's?"

Shirou folded his arms across his chest. "Despite your impression, I am perfectly capable of enjoying fast food."

"Sorry," I apologized. I wasn't sorry. I skipped forward. "Here, I'll show you the way."

Fugly Bob's was more an open shack than a restaurant. The building overlooked the beach, which right now was too cool to properly enjoy. Fitting with the open air theme, you could walk right inside and grab something eat. Fugly Bob's was famous in Brockton Bay, both for its taste and for its grease. I didn't hesitate before buying a bacon cheeseburger. I had never been the type that had to watch their weight, and now I had Avalon to take care of any other unpleasant aspect that might haunt my health.

If Lisa could hear my thoughts, she'd definitely start complaining.

Shirou ordered a Hideous Bob along with a side of onion rings and deep fried zucchini, which was officially more than either of us could eat.

The two of us took a seat on the patio. The sun had fallen lower on the horizon, setting afire the puffs of cloud floating overhead. The sea breeze brought with it a penetrating chill. I shivered. The cooler air wasn't pleasant now, but it would be nice when I went out tonight. My costume ran hot, especially when I had a windbreaker thrown over the top to disguise the fact I was a cape.

Shirou took a bite of his sandwich and chewed it thoughtfully.

"Pretty much what you'd expect, right?" I said before ripping a chunk from my burger.

"They did a surprisingly good job of using vegetables to offset the flavor of the meat," Shirou said thoughtfully.

"Does that mean we have burgers in our future?" I teased.

Shirou grunted then eyed the paper sack Fugly Bob's had provided. The bottom was wet with dripping fat. "Rin would kill me if I fed her anything with this much grease."

The redhead chewed on another hunk of burger, before testing a stick of deep fried zuchinni. I didn't spare the same attention to my own meal. I tore into my sandwich like a ravenous beast. I had missed lunch, leaving me with a surprisingly large appetite.

"You want to talk about it?" Shirou asked after a while.

I paused, grimaced, then swallowed. "I'd rather not."

Shirou nodded. No words. No questions. No pressure. That's what I liked about him. Once I put aside Shirou's sarcastic wit and occasional teasing, the redhead was stalwart. A man I could count on to have my back without any judgment.

It made me all the more aware of the distance I was putting between myself and my team. I already knew that I was kidding myself. Eventually, they would find out. Given Lisa's power, she had probably figured it out already. The 'conversation' between Sophia, Emma, and me had been too much of a giveaway. And Lisa wasn't great about keeping her mouth shut. Especially when she thought talking would help.

With a scowl, I tore out another bite. An orange cloud floated overhead. A pair of loud teenagers, two or three years older than myself, ran by, jumping and shouting. Suddenly, I was reminded of Emma and the friendship we'd never again have.

My gut curdled.

"I hate them." The words spilled from my lips before I could think.

Shirou didn't say anything. If he had, I probably would've stopped.

"I really hate those three: Sophia, Emma, and Madison. Emma... Emma used to be my best friend. We did everything together. I thought we were sisters... She stabbed me in the back."

My words turned vicious. I chomped down on an onion ring with an angry fury. The more I said, the more my emotions boiled. Almost as though I wanted Shirou to feel what I was feeling.

"They treated me like shit. They ruined everything I touched. They were relentless. There was no escape. Every day it seemed like they would come up with a new form of torture," I scowled. "Then they came up with their best plan yet. They shoved me into my locker, but not before filling it with used tampons and rotting trash."

I stopped. Disgusted. Disgusted with myself and afraid.

I looked up at Shirou.

He was silent.

I watched him. Fearful. Cautious. Searching. I was searching for something. What it was, I didn't know. Perhaps the same disgust I felt. Perhaps righteous fury. Perhaps it was condemnation or redemption.

Shirou's expression offered neither. He just nodded, absorbing my words and feelings without the slightest judgment. I was about to look away when he talked.

"When I was young, I lost everything."

There was remoteness to his words. Like a distant memory which had faded. Shirou gazed out toward the sea, the blazing clouds mirrored in his eyes.

"I don't know how it began. My first memory was of the burning. The buildings melting like wax. Voices crying out in despair. They shouted at me to save them. But I couldn't. I was only a child. All I could do was walk through the heat, casting away parts of myself so that they would be consumed by the inferno instead of my flesh."

Shirou's eyes turned to me. They were filled with an incredible weight.

"On that day, a child died. Of who I was before, there is nothing left. Rin tried to search for my past, but for me it never mattered. I am not that child. I am the man born from the embers."

Shirou's voice drifted, yet it was heavy like the clouds.

"For a long time, I was burdened by my weakness. By those memories. I regretted that I could not save those that burned in my place. I wanted to prove myself worthy of living when they died. I wanted to become a man who, next time, could pull those helpless voices from the fire."

Shirou's gaze fixed on me. For a moment, I caught glimpse of the inferno. The anchor it had left on his soul. The crushing doubt and lack of self worth that came from surviving when others did not. Our experiences were not the same. The scale of what we faced was very different. Yet, at the same time, I could almost glimpse an echo of myself in his story.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of," Shirou said with finality. "Who we were then, we are not any more. There is no need to be burdened by your past. The Taylor I know is already well on her way to becoming a hero."

With that, Shirou stood. He placed one hand on my head, ruffling my hair. Then he turned away and walked out of the shack, only stopping to toss the remnants of his lunch.

"Let's get to work."

I watched him in a daze. Shirou's broad back was the same. Yet it looked different in my eyes. He seemed less like a person and more like a legend. A great man. A hero. Then an energy stirred in my heart. A surety that I could walk beside him and stand just as tall.

Shirou was right. I wasn't that Taylor anymore. There was nothing to be ashamed of.

I stood.

"Let's do this."


	19. Chapter 19

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 19  
** -oOo-

The meeting spot was a couple kilometers north of my house.

The specific location was a Chinese restaurant, packed in tight amongst two commercial buildings. If I were to judge the space superficially, I'd say it was neither rich nor poor. The buildings were aged and worn, like the apartments situated across the street. All but one of the surrounding street lights were lit. Trash was scattered along the road, but not heavily. A clear indication that the area was occasionally cleaned. The windows were covered with grunge, but none were broken. All in all, the place had a kind of half-life that was quintessential Brockton Bay. A smoldering ember of hope that had yet to fade.

A group of toughs sat outside on a bench near the front door. The gang was roused by our approach. Gone were the green and red of the old ABB. Replacing it were yellow scarfs and armbands. I wondered at the symbolism. Was there a meaning behind it, or had Machina chosen the color at a whim?

"Who the hell are you?"

The aggressive words came from a kid, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old. He had a swagger to him, like a boy trying to look strong and threatening. My eyes were drawn to his face. Given his age and the location, there was a good chance he went to Winslow. But, after a second of studying, I didn't recognize him.

No surprise there. I never paid my classmates a whole lot of attention, and there were better than even odds the kid was a drop out.

A second gangster, this one in his early twenties, quickly stepped forward. Without hesitation, the older man snagged the kid's arm and jerked him aside.

"Hey, what are you – "

The older gangster didn't bother to explain. Instead he put a heavy hand on the boy's head, and shoved it down as he gave the two of us a bow.

"The Neo-Taiping welcomes Unit 09. Machina and the Undersiders are waiting inside."

A third gangster stepped out and pulled open the door. Archer offered them a slight nod of respect before entering. I followed behind, catching the last bits of hushed conversation.

"That was Unit 09?" the kid hissed, frightened.

"Idiot." The older gangster growled before giving the kid a solid _thawck_. "Why did you think the girl was wearing a – "

The door shut behind us.

The ABB – no, the Neo-Taiping as they were apparently calling themselves now – were operating out of the basement of this Chinese restaurant. The first floor was rather spacious and carried a lingering scent of Asian cooking. With business hours over, the Neo-Taiping footprint had expanded into the restaurant proper. Near a dozen Neo-Taiping foot soldiers occupied stools and booths. Alcoholic drinks sat in front of gangsters as they shot the breeze, while thick smoke curled up and filled the rafters.

My nose scrunched. Cigarette smoke infiltrated my lungs.

Regent and Bitch were up top. The butch girl stood off to the side, arms folded as she glowered at every human presence. Her troop of dogs was gathered at her feet, a circle of guardians holding the crowd at bay.

"Neo-Taiping?" I asked Archer quietly. "Is the name special?"

"It could be a reference to the Taiping rebellion," Archer sounded in response. "But given the yellow scarves, I suspect it's an allusion to the Yellow Turban Rebellion, which was said to be inspired by the Taipingjing, or Scriptures of Great Peace."

I gave Shirou an interested look. "Didn't take you for a historian."

Archer's lips quirked. "The Yellow Turban Rebellion is part of the Romance of Three Kingdoms. It would be hard to know Chinese history and not to have heard of it."

The basement was a crowded space lit by a quartet of incandescent bulbs. Machina and two Neo-Taiping lieutenants were gathered around a cheap, square folding table. Grue and Tattletale occupied one side, with the freckled blond leaning over the centered map.

Since I last saw her, Machina's costume had changed. The leering Oni mask had been replaced by a pair of aviator goggles and a tight, yellow mask that covered her lips and jaw. A steel band wrapped around the top of her head, glinting with lights and circuits. It reminded me of Regent's coronet, though the style was less Renaissance and closer to Tron.

Her armor had likewise been replaced. Machina had kept the Kevlar vest then reworked it with technological inserts. Her former leggings had switched out for biker leathers, which provided much better defense, then augmented again by what looked to be a metal exoskeleton.

No one would mistake her for anything but a Tinker.

I'll admit, at first I had thought Machina's choice of names was stupid. A giveaway. Now I understood her intent. Machina meant "Machine". A title fit for both a Brute and a Tinker. From the start, Machina knew her disguise would never last. Her power couldn't be hidden. So, rather than choose a name she'd be embarrassed by later, she instead opted for one that'd work before and after her lies were exposed.

Grue stepped away from the table and greeted us personally. "Glad the two of you could make it."

"She geared up pretty fast," I said, motioning toward Machina and the others. "From what I heard, it usually takes a bit for Tinkers to spin up."

And I wasn't just talking about Machina herself. One of the two Neo-Taping lieutenants also sported modifications. The older man's eye had been replaced. It was easy to tell, seeing how his iris glowed with a violet hue.

With tech like that, I was betting it'd be hard to blend with the civilians.

Then again, with that giant scar running across his face it'd be hard not to attract attention regardless. And with old Cyber-eye's age, his rap sheet probably read like a book.

I guessed he didn't spend much time out in public.

Grue followed my gesture.

"She grows them. At least that's what Tattletale tells me," Grue answered. "Machina's tech is as much metal as it's biological. Supposedly they're self maintaining too, not that I'm about to let anyone stick that voodoo crap inside me."

On that, the two of us agreed. Judging from Machina's little display in Somer's Rock, she could upgrade a baseline human to Brute 1 or 2, at the very least. But there was no telling the long term consequences of her tech. Nor, for that matter, what kind of traps she might stick into other people's bodies. Tattletale's word was good, but I'd sure as hell want the say so of a friendly Tinker before I'd even think about it.

"You're telling me her machines are alive?" I asked.

That sounded... dangerous. Dangerous and potentially alarming. For North American capes, the word self-replicating inevitably lead to the name Nilbog. And drawing connections to a potential S-classed threat was never a good thing.

"Don't ask me. I don't know tinker-tech," Grue shrugged. "For what it's worth, Tattletale claims Machina isn't going to scare anyone, even after they get samples of her tech."

"Caster will get a chance to look them over later," Archer interrupted. "You called us here for a reason."

"Not me, I'm just the messenger," Grue responded, nodding toward Machina.

Machina took that as her cue.

The female Tinker stepped forward, striding around the square table. She stopped three paces from us then bowed. Low. Her body bent until her back was parallel with the ground.

"I am grateful for your assistance."

When set beside the delivery, the words themselves were almost meaningless. I glanced at Archer, feeling taken aback. I had never had someone say thanks in such a formal way.

The redhead held a sublime smile.

"There is no need," Archer rumbled gently.

Machina straightened. She shook her head. "No. If it wasn't for Unit 09 and the Undersiders, I'd probably be dead. More than that, everyone that cares would have lost hope."

As she said the last, Machina turned toward her two lieutenants. Cyber-eye merely nodded. His weathered face was stern. A perfect depiction of an old, mafia leader. The other lieutenant huffed. He was younger, mid-thirties maybe, with a thin frame and a sharp, dangerous gaze.

When the younger lieutenant stared, it looked as though he wanted to murder the entire room.

"But I didn't bring you here just to thank you," Machina continued, her tone became harder, more fitting for a leader. "I haven't forgotten that Caster's help came as part of a deal. And before I get into my request, I'd like to make a down payment to show my sincerity."

Machina turned and stepped a quarter of the way around the square table. The Tinker picked up a glass jar set near the space she occupied when we entered. The jar itself wasn't anything fancy. It was the type you could buy so as to seal heated food you had cooked yourself. The jar's interior, however, was strange. The entire volume was filled with a viscous, green liquid that shimmered with its own life. Floating within was a coiled bit of machine. A thin metallic string, thickened at points by mechanical parts.

The object throbbed, as though alive.

Machina passed the jar into Archer's hands. The redhead studied it for a moment, eying the interior. Then prana crackled, leaving behind a electric scent.

Without a word, he handed the jar over to me. I put it in my pack alongside my medical supplies.

"I can help with the implantation," Machina offered into the silence.

"Our interest is academic," Archer replied.

Machina looked at us questioningly. My face was blank, but I shared her curiosity. Caster's interest in tinker-tech no doubt related to Unit 09's contract. However, even with that, this level of technology was clearly beyond her expertise.

I was sorely tempted to probe it with my own prana. But I was afraid that I'd break it if I tried.

Machina shifted awkwardly, reminding anew of the fragile girl who boldly showed up in Somer's Rock.

"Per our agreement, I owe two more samples," Machina said, finally. "I'll provide them later. Please inform me if Unit 09 has specific requests. But before that, I need Caster's go ahead on a new money making operation."

"Say it," Archer said, bluntly.

Machina's shoulders shifted. Cyber-eye's expression turned stern. Psycho killer's gaze sharpened.

"Caster is the one with veto rights," Machina reminded.

"Caster left operational details to me," Archer explained. The redhead's tone came across as harsh, though, knowing him, it wasn't intentional. "On this, my voice is the same as hers."

I understood Machina's reaction, because not long ago I had been put in a similar place. Back then, it was Stormtiger demanding that I fetch Caster so that she could talk to him. A power play to make Unit 09 look small. Now that dynamic was operating in reverse. Machina was the leader of the Neo-Taiping. For Archer to take Caster's role could be interpreted as a sign of Unit 09's disregard.

Which was _e_ _xactly_ the kind of thing a girl in the hot spot didn't want to find out at the wrong time.

"Unit 09 is not so much a hierarchy, as it is a family," Tattletale interjected. "Caster isn't looking down on you. In this, Archer really does speak for Unit 09. In fact, when it comes to the villain groups in Brockton Bay, his authority supersedes hers."

Machina's gaze shifted between the freckled blonde and the redhead hesitantly. Finally, she relaxed. "Sorry, I misunderstood."

"Don't worry about it. Our team can be a little strange at times," Archer offered with a light smile. "What did you want to ask?"

Strange? Wait until you find out the three of them share the same bed. Ugh. And I had _almost_ forgotten about that. Now I was going to have to work at purging the image from my brain all over again.

When placed under Archer's question, Machina started to fidget. Cyber-eye, the older lieutenant, grunted then gave the girl a stern look of reproach. Machina noticed his gaze, twitched, then straightened up, hiding her hands behind her back.

"Drug running."

She said the words quickly, as though scared of our reaction.

I frowned. Not that Machina could tell with my face hidden behind my mask. Archer's visage, however, was granite.

Machina glanced nervously back at her lieutenants as though seeking their support. _Tch._ Psycho-killer clicked with his tongue. Weirdly, the disdainful sound seemed to give her strength.

Maybe they were nicer than they looked?

Psycho-killer coldly met my gaze, his eyes sharp enough to slaughter my soul.

Yeah. No.

"As you already know, when the Merchants collapsed they left a giant gap in the underground economy," Machina began, explaining her goal. "The ABB's main focus was never the drug market. Lung preferred old Yakuza classics like protection, shady businesses, gambling houses, and hostess clubs."

Machina's face mask twisted as she said the last. I could hear her grimace.

"Problem is, our men can hide but our properties cannot. The Neo-Taiping's businesses are easy targets. The E88 has been sending men to hassle workers at the places they know and the stores they suspect. We can make it up in protection, of course, but we're pulling too much from the local population as it is."

Machina scowled. I couldn't blame her. Machina took up the role of the ABB leader in order to _help_ the discriminated Asian minorities, not hurt them. It must have come as an unpleasant shock to learn that, if she wanted to fund her gang, she had to keep preying on the very people she wanted to support.

After all, no gang, no protection. And a minority population in Brockton Bay without protection? Especially one so recently scorned? That wasn't a road to a good end. But the logic also follows, no money, no gang.

The world doesn't work for free.

Moving from protection to drugs was an obvious solution. The recreational market had been blown wide open. Profits were sky high. Competitors were non-existent. Demand was well established.

And most important of all, running drugs didn't hurt her people.

It just hurt everyone else.

Perhaps I was being a bit biased. I didn't know much about drugs, but I knew there were a few drugs people swore were harmless. Then again, was I supposed to trust a junkie? More than that, criticizing Machina, even in my own head, was hypocritical. Her idea wasn't that far flung from the one I had proposed at the Undersiders'.

Of course, my goal had been to sink the market rather than grow it.

Context was important.

If I were in Machina's shoes, what choice would I make? I wasn't sure. All I knew was that there weren't a lot of good ones.

"I don't want to touch the hard stuff," Machina assured. "We don't need to. There are plenty of recreational drugs whose use doesn't come with a lot of risk. The profit margin isn't as good, but we're filling a hole in the budget, not trying to get rich."

I wondered how often drug dealers told themselves that, right before expanding their enterprise out of control.

"Give me a list of what you want to sell and I'll approve what I can tolerate," Archer said, gruffly. His eyes were narrowed. "But, in return I want your men to squeeze out any dealer selling the things I'm not willing to put up with."

I didn't add anything. The decision felt dark. Scummy. Like a muddy compromise that spat on everything a hero stood for.

The more I sank into this world, the more I learned how shadowed morality could be.

I didn't like it. No, I shouldn't like it. Not liking it was a good thing.

But denying it was worse.

Machina breathed a sigh of relief.

Grue's voice echoed out of his skull helmet in an eerie cadence. "We still have a few bricks we have yet to dispose of. If you want them, the Undersiders are willing to sell at a good price."

"We'll talk," Cyber-eye said, his words like gravel. His gaze turned to the Neo-Taiping leader. "You should give them some background so they know what's up."

"Right," Machina nodded.

Machina moved to her initial spot at the square table, leaving space for Archer and me to crowd forward. Laid out on the table was a map. The chart was huge, spreading from one corner of the table to the other, and covered the whole of Brockton Bay including the outskirts. Streets, blocks, and alleys could be seen. Many major buildings had been named.

Plugged into the surface were colored pins. Most of the pins were yellow, but there was plenty of white scattered here and there. Often the two colored pins were placed side by side.

Troop positions then? Or maybe conflicts.

The layout reminded me a lot of Archer's map, though this one was nowhere near as annotated. That, and Archer tended to focus on fixed assets.

"A week ago, on the Undersiders' advice, I reorganized the ABB." Machina began. "While most of the insiders chose to stay, a few objected. Several of those objectors were senior members, including Hiroji – one of Lung's former lieutenants."

"We should've shot him," the Psycho-Killer commented, proving that my mental designation was well chosen.

"That would have made things easier right now, yeah, but harder in the long run," Tattletale interjected. "The fact you changed your name while the ABB kept theirs is a plus. It helps to establish the narrative. The ABB and the Neo-Taiping are two different groups." Tattletale's lips stretched out in a broad grin. "Especially with a bunch of my sockpuppets throwing up posts all over PHO. By now, the Protectorate will have to confirm. Which will make it harder to retract."

The younger lieutenant's narrowed eyes shifted to the freckled blonde. His tongue let out an unimpressed click. "PR is worthless to dead men."

"Nobody is dying tonight. You have the Undersiders' backing," Grue interrupted. Then he nodded toward our group. "And Unit 09's, if that's what it takes."

Machina shot us a grateful look. Psycho-Killer scrutinized us suspiciously. I felt a strong urge to remind him that we took down Lung, and more recently the Butcher. Then again, it probably wasn't our strength he was doubting. Rather, our intentions.

In many ways, Unit 09 had become too dangerous. It was natural that our newfound allies would be wary.

"In total, seventeen men defected," Machina explained. "Since then, they've been gathering money by raiding our properties, leaving us ragged while strengthening themselves. We've tried to hit back, but the one time we corned the defectors, the Empire showed up and we had no choice but to retreat."

Machina scowled.

"Wait, you're saying they're working with Kaiser?" I sounded in disbelief.

"For Kaiser, ideology is a means, not an end. His real goal is power," Tattletale explained. "Helping the old-ABB hurts the Neo-Taiping, along with the Undersiders and Unit 09. Doing that is totally within his MO."

I understood the strategy of it. That wasn't what I was questioning.

"Basically, you're telling me that Kaiser doesn't believe his own bullshit," I said with a scowl.

Not just a Nazi. A hypocritical fake Nazi. Except, the lives he ruined with his opportunistic bigotry were very real.

"I don't doubt that he believes it," Grue inserted. "It's just that, for Kaiser, power comes first."

"No, for him, both are equally important," Machina countered, darkly.

I supposed in the end it didn't matter. Whether Kaiser played the Nazi for power, or was a Nazi out of conviction, he was an evil asshole all the same.

"The old-ABB has to know that Kaiser is going to backstab them," I pointed out.

"They know," Cyber-eye grunted with a scowl.

"Heh," Psycho-Killer snorted a cold laugh. "Given it's Hiroji, he'll try to stab first."

Machina shook her head.

"It doesn't matter why the Empire is willing to help. What matters is that they are. More importantly, word is out that the old-ABB has found a cape they can work with. Bạch Hổ, a strong Changer, Striker who migrated to the United States from Vietnam. He has been living in California for the last few years. His record is...," Machina's expression twisted. "Bloody."

Psycho-Killer's smile conveyed cruel amusement. "Nothing compared to the old boss."

"Less restraint," Cyber-eye commented.

"And exactly the wrong kind of guy to take charge if you want to avoid the Protectorate," Grue added.

"Sabotage?" I asked, looking at the freckled blonde.

"Not exactly," Tattletale answered. "The Empire gave a hint in that direction, but it's the ABB who swallowed the bait, hook, line and sinker."

"Hiroji always thought we were too soft," Cyber-eye grunted.

"No wonder Kaiser is willing to help. Even if the ABB wins, they'll flame out," I said.

"And turn everyone in Brockton Bay against the Asian population while doing so," Tattletale nodded. "The plan's too good for Kaiser. Gesellschaft is behind it. As of now, they seem to be limiting their backing to advice. But, with Unit 09's recent success in Boston, it's only a matter of time before they switch to direct support."

Tattletale looked at Archer and I. Her words were, without question, directed toward us. Whether or not Kaiser had help, the Neo-Taiping wouldn't even serve as a speed bump.

"None of this has anything to do with tonight," Archer noted.

"He's right," Cyber-eye added, his tone lightly chiding. "Enough background. Cut to the chase."

Machina nodded in acknowledgement. "The ABB has arranged a meet up in the Boat Graveyard at one AM, sharp. Bạch Hổ is supposed to be there, along with all of Hiroji's support. It's too good an opportunity to pass up. Problem is, Hookwolf and maybe a few others will be there acting as arbiter. We can't handle them."

Machina looked at us. The rest didn't need to be said.

"We'll be there," Archer answered instantly.

Machina's expression became one of relief.

"I don't want you to interfere with the ABB, just the Empire," she said. "Defeating the ABB has to stay in house."

I frowned. It was Archer who spoke.

"I won't stand aside if people start dying."

"That won't happen," Machina said firmly. Then she took in a shaky breath. "And if does, I won't stop you."

"And the Undersiders? You still want us help you get in close?" Grue asked.

"Yes," Machina said. The yellowed, incandescent lights reflected off the lens of her goggles. "I don't want to settle this with guns. I want to take them down clean. No deaths. No serious injuries. As for Bạch Hổ, if you're willing, I'd like you to handle him."

Grue looked at Tattletale.

"As I said Bạch Hổ is a Changer. Specifically, he transforms into a tiger. That is, if tigers had wings, lightning claws, and were as big as a car," Tattletale explained. "Bạch Hổ's most dangerous part is his claws, but not in the way you're thinking. His lightning's main aspect isn't its destructive force but rather its power to disrupt. The shock acts like a taser. It'll make your muscles convulse and put you down hard. But only for a few seconds.

"Now, that might not sound like much, but one-on-one that's enough to make Bạch Hổ invincible. However, when put against numbers his claws aren't so useful. Bitch's dogs are bigger, stronger, and more importantly, armored. Bạch Hổ won't be able to put them down for the count. As long as they keep at it, they'll win for sure."

"If he has wings, he can fly. That complicates things," Grue pointed out.

"Sure he can," Tattletale said with a mocking smile. "Like a chicken. Bạch Hổ isn't going anywhere. And if he does pull any surprises, Archer can clip his wings."

Grue looked back at Archer. The redheaded man nodded.

"We can handle it," Grue answered firmly.

"If you need to get past their guns, I can help," I interjected.

Machina looked at Cyber-eye. I spoke before he could say anything.

"I get it. You want a show of strength. Proof that the Neo-Taiping can handle itself. But, and I don't want to be insulting here, leaving everything to Grue and trying to rush in is fucking stupid," I said. My tone was caustic. "The ABB has seventeen men. Seventeen men means seventeen guns. Even firing blind, that's a lot of bullets. Somebody is bound to get hit."

"She has a point," Psycho-Killer added. He gave our group a speculative look.

Grue nodded. "I agree. I'd feel a whole lot better about this if the ABB's weapons were out of play."

Machina frowned. She gave Cyber-eye another look. The older man nodded.

"Fine, but just their guns. The Neo-Taiping is already borrowing too much strength."

"If everything is settled, we should start preparing the men," Cyber-eye said.

Machina took Cyber-eye's words to heart and headed up. Part of me wondered which of the two of them was really the leader. Not that it was a bad thing. Machina was young. Having an old hand at the till while she learned the ropes would make the transition smoother.

But it was a risk. If Cyber-eye was planning a double cross... Well, Unit 09 would step in if that came to pass. And Cyber-eye surely knew that.

Still, something to keep an eye on.

While the others vanished up the stairs, I hung back. Tattletale was looking at me. She wanted to talk and I knew what she wanted to talk about. It had been several hours since I collected the information from the bank. By now, Tattletale would have had plenty of time to deduce a few clues.

When the crowd cleared up, the freckled blonde slipped in beside me.

"So... Unit 09 is like family, huh?" I noised, questioning. "If so, where does that put me?"

The freckled blonde flashed a teasing grin. "A laggard? A hanger on? A guest that's overstayed her welcome?"

I shot her my best scowl. Tattletale was lucky I took her words as joke. If she had said something like that two weeks ago, my reaction wouldn't have been half as friendly.

"Little sister."

Archer's deep voice interjected. My gaze jerked back, startled. I found the redhead paused five steps up the stairs. His lips were quirked into a devilish smile.

My face heated. We'd been overheard. I thought Archer had already left.

"Oh, that one works too!" Tattletale added with a vulpine smile.

If I hadn't already suspected that Tattletale knew Archer was listening in when she gave that quip, I'd certainly suspect it now.

"Enough joking." I felt strangely irritated. Not sure how to react, I decided to brush it off. I looked at Archer. "Don't you have work to do?"

Archer's expression was blank. "I wasn't joking."

…

Uh...

My brain went blank. He... actually meant that? I felt confused. Unsure. What was I supposed to say? For that matter, what should I think or feel? I'm flattered? Was I flattered? To be honest, I felt that the assertion was more than a little uncomfortable.

Yet, at the same time...

With my mind swirling, I barely noticed when Archer started walking up.

Then the redhead stopped in midstep, his gaze swept past me to halt on the freckled blonde. "Is she blushing?"

Tattletale grinned like a hungry fox. "Yep. She's totally blushing."

I jolted. A blade of disappointment cut through me. I scowled, suddenly feeling angry and miserable. I didn't know why. I never once thought of Unit 09 as _family_. In fact, if anything, the idea was incredibly awkward. Yet, here I was, acting like a stupid emotional teen.

It took me a moment to find my balance.

"I knew you were teasing," I muttered, my tone surprisingly bitter.

"Of course I was teasing," the redhead answered easily, his words lingering as he vanished upstairs. "After all, it's only natural for big brothers to tease their little sisters."

…

A hand waved in front of my face. "Earth to Taylor," Tattletale sounded.

I swatted her arm out of the way in irritation.

"If you really want to know, you could always ask Caster," Tattletale joked.

My gaze shifted to the freckled blonde. Ask Caster? Then I noticed Tattletale's wide smile. It was hungry, vicious, and pleased – like a cat who caught the canary. A sudden sense of danger loomed in my heart.

Ask Caster? No way in hell.

Asking would be the same as acknowledging the relationship. Acknowledging would be the same as granting permission. The moment the words left my mouth, it would already be too late. I could see it. Caster's blue eyes lighting with a terrible gleam. Her evil smirk and sinister laughter. The instant acceptance, the sudden decision that I was _hers_. Hers to toy with. Hers to educate. Hers to dress up. Hers to direct until she had the perfect little sister she always dreamed of.

I shuddered.

Caster was already the controlling type. Giving her another hook? No. Just no. The notion was horrifying. And that horror was made all the more palpable because, on some level, I was _tempted_.

Unit 09 had caught me, not quite at my weakest, but nearly there. In doing so they had given me something I had sorely missed. Someone to look over me. Someone I could turn to. Someone I could trust.

The moment I recognized it, I was hit by a terrible longing. There was a reason I had not outright rejected Archer's claim even though it chafed. A family. I wanted a family. Not Unit 09. Not really. What I truly desired was my mom and dad, there with me together. The way it used to be.

The way it could never be again.

It both relieved and alarmed me that Unit 09 was filling that gap.

I shook my head then turned to Tattletale.

"Don't even think about it," I growled in warning.

"Oh, come on. You know I'd never betray a friend," Tattletale taunted with an evil smile.

"Uh huh," I noised, not tricked in the slightest. My eyes were narrow. "This is your counter threat in case I decide to tell Caster about your crimes, isn't it?"

Tattletale wore an angelic smile while letting loose a light, sinister laugh.

I gave the freckled blonde the evil eye before releasing a huff. After a second, I decided to change the subject.

"Did you learn anything?"

Tattletale's playful demeanor vanished. "I managed to glean a handful of names but –"

"You need more information," I finished.

I wasn't surprised. Because of the Police and that bitch Sophia, I had been cut out of the system early. Not so early that I snatched nothing. In fact, I had more than enough time to dump a good chunk of the bank's database onto Tattletale's cellphone. But, both of us knew that wasn't sufficient. Tattletale needed to study the data I took, then use what she found to request more. Rinse and repeat. Again and again, each time narrowing the scope. Only then would she have what she wanted.

"Yeah, I need more information," Tattletale confirmed with a grimace. "I have a few names. Even an address or two. But that's not enough. If I'm going to take out the target, I need everything. If I don't rip out his support by the roots then..."

"Then you'll ask Caster for help," I cut in.

"Ugh," Tattletale sounded. "That's a low blow, Overmind, and you know it."

"This isn't cops and robbers," I retorted. "I know you want to handle this yourself, but whatever price Caster wants you to pay is a hell of a lot less than your life."

Tattletale scowled, but she didn't say anything. Good. She got my point. Maybe it was the whole 'family thing' that had come up, but I was starting to regret that I hadn't told Unit 09 what was up. I knew this was a personal affair. I also knew that this was Tattletale's battle to fight, but I couldn't forget Tattletale's face back in the alley. The nervousness. The fear.

Coil scared her. And it wasn't a little scare either. Tattletale was legitimately scared to death. I had never seen her like that before. Usually, Tattletale was flippant. Recklessly so.

I didn't want to see her dead. Tattletale wasn't family, not even in the sense of Unit 09, but she was the closest thing to a best friend I currently had.

"What do you need?" I asked. My question was my acceptance.

"More time at the bank would help," Tattletale answered. "But the rest of it... well... you aren't going to like it."

If Tattletale said I wasn't going to like it, then I _really_ wasn't going to like it.

"I need an eye inside PRT headquarters," she said, answering my silent question.

"You shitting me?"

"Does it look like I'm shitting you?" Tattletale asked, pointing at her freckled face. Her visage was dead serious.

"That's – " I cut myself off. "Is that even _safe_?"

Gaining access to PRT headquarters was easier than reaching the Protectorate, but that was the only good thing I could say about it. The Protectorate base was built atop a retrofitted oil rig set in the middle of the bay. It had forcefields, a missile defense system, and everything. PRT headquarters sat downtown. With two-hundred-and-fifty meters of range, I could easily reach the entire building without having to do anything stupid, like posing as a tourist.

But that was where the good news ended. The PRT wasn't Brockton Bay Central Bank. The PRT had Tinkers and Thinkers, and not just local ones either. They had years to build sophisticated protections and protocols. Protections I couldn't say for sure wouldn't catch me. Powers, after all, operated on prana, and prana could be sensed.

Assuming the PRT wouldn't notice was beyond naïve. But just because they _could_ didn't mean they _would_.

"Lets just say that I'm eighty percent sure they won't detect your intrusion," Tattletale replied.

"That's a twenty percent chance they will," I growled back.

"Hey. Don't give up so easy," Tattletale added quickly. "Spotting your power is completely different from tracing it back to you."

That was a fair point, but...

"You're not the one that has to explain to Caster why I was poking a hornet's nest."

"Actually, I kind of am," Tattletale murmured with a grimace.

"She'll be pissed to all hell."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," Tattletale replied. She flashed her vulpine smile. "You in?"

"That has to be the worst sell I've ever heard."

Tattletale's smirk didn't fade. "So? What's it going to be?"

I couldn't believe I was going to say this. "I'll think about it," I grunted. I started heading for the stairs. "So, Kaiser?"

"Oh, you'll like this," Tattletale said cheerfully as she followed right behind. "If I said Medhall, what would you think?"

I frowned. "Upper management? A vice president?"

I tried to think of names. I had never paid any attention to Brockton Bay's high life. It didn't have anything to do with me, and frankly, Brockton Bay didn't have much of one in the first place.

"Bigger."

I stopped and looked back.

"CEO?" I asked in disbelief.

"Max Anders," Tattletale confirmed with a shit eating grin. "Now, come on, ask me if I got anymore."

I rolled my eyes as we stepped out into the Chinese restaurant then indulged her. There was plenty of time before the Neo-Taiping moved out, and I couldn't say I wasn't interested.

-oOo-

Darkness lingered, deeper and heavier than I was used to in Brockton Bay. The Boat Graveyard was distant from the city core. The street was cold, empty, illuminated only by a faint crescent sliver of moonlight which lingered on the precipice of death. The sky itself seemed brighter than the shadowed pavement, filled as it was with rare twinkling stars and city glow.

In this impenetrable gloom, the yellowed lenses of my mask lent no assistance.

But I required not eyes to see.

My swarm was my hand. My nose. My feeling whiskers in the dark. With a million ears I caught every breath. With a billion limbs, I mapped the world. With my wings, I pierced the shadow, knowing all that lay within my domain.

Darkness was my fondest friend.

But friend though it was provided no cause for carelessness. My allies, after all, did not share my gift.

The Boat Graveyard was pock marked by dilapidated buildings and the rotten husks of discarded vessels. Warehouses and shattered shacks loomed like tombs over the shoreline, while skeletal vessels littered the beach like discarded corpses. Once, this place had thrived, the many buildings offering support for ships and entertainment for those drawn to the marina. That time had long since passed. Now, the graveyard lay dead and forgotten.

Archer and I were nestled behind one such building, our bodies hidden from view by the broken remnants of a hut. Grue, Bitch, and the Neo-Taiping were flung further out. My swarm buzzed around them, serving as my signal. This was the safest route. As tempting as it was to put eyes up top, anyone who could spot the ABB could be spotted in turn.

It took fifteen minutes for the first of them to arrive.

The headlights of three trucks and two cars rolled into view, the white light brilliant and stark in the face of inscrutable dark. The ABB unloaded one after another. Seventeen heads in total. Their leader – Hiroji? – made gestures and called out commands. Six of the men spread out, taking up defensive positions around the group.

The next set of guests appeared not long after.

Rune, Stormtiger, and Hookwolf floated into view, carried on the back of a cargo container. The metal box set itself down with a hard _clung_ a good two-score meters away from the ABB.

"He's late."

Rune's petulant voice carried in the wind. Too far to be heard by my human ears, but my gathered swarm didn't lack in perception.

"Babysitting gooks," Stormtiger spat.

"Think of it like a cage match," Hookwolf returned. He had a nasty smile. "You don't have to like the dogs. You just have to enjoy the way they tear themselves apart."

"I'd rather watch TV," Rune complained.

Bạch Hổ finally showed.

The Changer stepped out of shadow, emerging from a distant building. In truth, he had been here all along, waiting in the gloom much like ourselves. Bạch Hổ was, simply put, a giant. Archer was unusually tall for an Asian man. Bạch Hổ was a colossus of any descent. The Changer stood well over two meters tall. And it wasn't just his height. Bạch Hổ's muscles bulged like those of a marble god, his muscular flesh barely hidden by the white, tiger striped coat he had thrown over his back.

It wasn't much of a disguise, even accounting for Bạch Hổ's mask. The metal, tiger shaped plate covered nothing more than his eyes and forehead, leaving mouth and hair completely exposed. Made sense. Bạch Hổ was a Changer, and Changers rarely had a choice. Few were the capes who came with a ready made costume. That was a privilege reserved for the most unfair and bullshit powers of them all.

You know, like Saber's.

Yeah, I'm fucking jealous. Who wouldn't be?

"You brought watchers," Bạch Hổ sneered. His voice was heavy, with a strange thunderous quality to it.

"A neutral party. They're only here to oversee the transaction," Hiroji, the ABB head, stated.

Bạch Hổ gave Hookwolf a cold glance before turning away.

"Prove this is worth my time."

Hiroji gestured. An ABB soldier passed a suitcase to the front. The ABB leader released the latches. A million eyes caught glimpse of the interior. It wasn't money. Instead I found three erratically shaped spheres, strewn with knobs and wires. Tinker-tech. I knew it at a glance.

I instantly knew what the ABB was offering. Bakuda's bombs.

I grimaced.

Bạch Hổ's lips curled into a toothy smile. He looked like a hungry cat, full of cruelty and malice. "Kuebiko will be ecstatic."

The Changer reached for a device. Hiroji snapped the case shut.

"Don't forget that I'm your new boss," Bạch Hổ snapped with a snide tone.

"When you give the ABB victory, everything will belong to you," the ABB leader countered. "Until then, you are merely a candidate and thus will receive nothing more than our support."

Bạch Hổ's expression twisted. He glowered. Hiroji stood unmoved. The Changer shot a glance in the Empire's direction before huffing in arrogant dismissal.

It was time for the opening act.

-oOo-

 **Generalized Report on Parahuman Phenomenon  
** Filing Code: #CIL201009-6-B5  
Authors: Edelfelt, L, Eltnam, S, Tohsaka, R

 **Abstract  
** This report is part five of the generalized series on parahuman phenomenon, written in accordance with Section B of Enforcer Contract #CIL201009-6. The first report covered parahuman physiology. The second, third, and fourth reports covered the actualization of the mysteries sub-typed: Master, Thinker, and Brute. This report will cover the mysteries sub-typed: Tinker.

According to local authorities, Tinker is a specialized parahuman power distinct from all others. However, by standard understanding, Tinker abilities are better expressed an inherited expertise augmented by Thinker support.

Tinker powers express themselves by means of created devices known as Tinker-tech. Repeated examinations of such devices show that they are nothing more than combination of scientific principles and thaumaturgy. In other words, they are technologically enhanced mystic codes.

On this basis, it has been determined that, rather than individual Tinkers, it is more useful to examine a tinker-tech device. To this end, the authors of this paper have acquired a large sample of such devices from a variety of sources. This paper will cover several such devices in brief, showing their construction, their underlying mysteries, and their potential use in ascertaining the future of modern magecraft.

Note that due to the research value of these tools, information will be restricted in accordance to the privacy rights guaranteed in...


	20. Chapter 20

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 20  
** -oOo-

Since my first, fateful night, I had learned a lot of things. A lot about myself, and a lot about my powers. Originally, I had viewed my powers as weak. I mean bugs, what can they do? I had been wrong. An insect was nothing. A swarm was a terrifying threat. Against squishy capes and baseline humans, I was an invincible terror. I could strike down enemies by the dozen while sipping coffee in a cafe. I was unreachable, inescapable, and undetectable.

The perfect assassin.

But my power had many flaws. If my opponent had a decent defense or a power that could sweep areas, my swarm lost its punch. A result I had become painfully familiar with. Lung. Armsmaster. Mush. Bakuda. Animos. Hemorrhagia. I had run into more than my fair share of capes that could defeat my horde, and I faced the incredible frustration that came with it.

So, it was almost fitting that, in the midst of a mission involving lots of squishy targets, I was forbidden to touch nearly every single one.

Story of my life.

I guess I'd just have to make do.

I triggered my horde.

The swarm came alive with a deafening roar. Ten-thousand crickets sang in tune with the buzzing of a billion wings. A chitinous mass rose in a whirlwind. The howling tornado swirled around the ABB. Thugs and gangsters jolted in terror, eyes drawn to the fireflies that danced hauntingly in the churning morass.

"Unit 09!" "Fuck, it's Unit 09!"

Shouts and calls sounded. The ABB shifted, faces twisting with fear. Some lifted their guns in mindless panic, pressing down down on their triggers in mad frenzy. _Bang! Bang!_ A handful of shots split the night. The rest of the weapons clicked uselessly – their hammers bound by spider silk thread and their innards clogged by shell and ichor.

 _Clop. Clop._

My boots echoed on the pavement as I stepped out from behind the hut. I didn't disguise my presence. I flaunted it. Fireflies floated around me, illuminating my gray and black costume with a yellowed glow. My pace was measured. Cool. Confident. Unhurried. I strode forward with hands folded behind my back.

I surveyed the field with human eyes. I was a conductor with a lowered wand. The holder of a theater whose curtains had just begun to rise.

Hookwolf stood atop Rune's cargo container, scowling down. "Overmind," the Changer spat.

"So this is Unit 09," Bạch Hổ sneered. The Changer's body shifted. Muscles bulged from his back while dark bristles grew from his skin, surging with rippling lightning. His voice lowered to a rumbling growl. "Games and distractions. I'm not impressed."

"Hey, hey. If Unit 09 shows up, aren't we supposed to retreat?" Rune whispered. I only caught her quiet voice thanks to my swarm.

My gaze swept past the Empire to fall upon the Changer. The massive cat was covered in a field of spiked fur, barely visible through the whirling tornado that surrounded him. Sparks shot over his form, leaping across hairs in brilliant illumination. A pair of wings flexed, far too small to carry his weight.

"I'm not your opponent," I said, blandly. My head shifted to the right. "They are."

Swirling bugs parted like a veil. The eyes of Bạch Hổ and the ABB were drawn to the gap. A score of Neo-Taiping foot soldiers stood right outside, ten meters away. They held bats, planks, and improvised weapons. And on their faces, they wore grim determination. Machina was at their front, her metal exoskelton gleaming. Cyber-eye and Psycho-Killer were at her flank, grim and murderous in equal measure.

Machina's hand fell like an axe.

"Take them down."

With a mad shout, the group rushed past. A sharp whistle rose over the clamor. From the darkness lunged a trio of alien beasts. Bitch's dogs were nightmare made manifest. Their skin was twisted bone and exposed muscle. Their eyes, vile death. Saliva dripped from their maws with hungry threat.

Bạch Hổ took one look then promptly ran the other way.

The monstrous tiger made it two steps before he tripped.

My horde caught Regent's callous laughter. Bitch's dogs flashed forward in a pack. They threw themselves upon the Changer, forming a rolling ball of fur and flesh.

Then dark mist poured out, forming an impenetrable wall that devoured all senses. Grue walked along the edge of my swarm, swallowing all with his bounded power.

My eyes turned back to the Empire. The fight with the ABB was not mine. Instead, I faced a foe far more dangerous. I looked over the enemy capes, nervously squeezing Taming Sari's handle. The baton was carefully hidden behind my back.

The Empire looked at me then the shroud of darkness. Then they looked at me again. Stormtiger's visage turned hideous. Hookwolf's shoulders trembled with frustrated anger.

"Fuck," Hookwolf finally spat. "Rune, take us out of here."

 _Clung_. Metal popped as the cargo container rose.

I huffed with disdain. "You think you can leave?"

Really, did they think I just showed up just to look good? Since the Empire wanted to fuck with Unit 09's operations, we were certainly going to fuck with theirs.

"I don't remember breaking any of Unit 09's rules, little girl," Stormtiger retorted snidely. "And even if I did, how do you –"

Stormtiger stopped in mid sentence. His gaze shot up. Hidden within the night were a dozen hoops of spider silk drifting down. Thin fibers draped over the Empire capes. At first, Stormtiger didn't seem to understand. Then his hand flashed out, snagging an invisible cord. The Striker scrutinized his open palm, then suddenly cast his head in both directions.

"Rune. Stop!"

"What?" Rune sounded. "Hey, there's something wrapped around – "

Too late.

Spider silk wasn't like rope. It wasn't stiff. It was elastic. That meant, once the cord went taut, the Empire got plenty of warning. Unfortunately, the metal cargo container had picked up a fair bit of speed. Worse, the threads had been anchored to objects on the ground. And most important of all –

" _Whaaaa!"_ Rune shrieked as she was suddenly ripped straight off her cargo container.

– Elastic snapped back.

Bungee cord and gravity formed a joint pair propelling the teenaged Striker into the earth. She hit with a sickening _thump_. Her body bounced half a meter high, then finished its trajectory by slamming straight into a fire hydrant.

I winced in sympathy.

The two remaining capes fared better. Stormtiger leapt off the cargo container at his own impulse. The Shaker landed lightly, his short flight softened by a pulse of heavy air. He swayed as he moved, dancing around hidden threads. _Pop._ Then his power struck out in a concussive hammer, blasting away the army of guiding moths.

A full third of them fell to the ground. Half dead. Half stunned.

My eyes flickered. Stormtiger's actions were more than mere chance. He could sense the threads. He wasn't just a Shaker. He was a Thinker.

And that made him a whole lot more dangerous than I originally thought.

But not dangerous enough to slow me down.

No, the real threat was Hookwolf. The Empire's Changer didn't follow Stormtiger's lead. Instead of jumping back, he jumped forward. Half a dozen lengths of thread's wrapped around his bare chest, stretching out as he fell.

Then they started to snap.

In mid-air, Hookwolf changed. His mass exploded outward. Flesh tore apart, not into guts and blood, but instead into a clattering cacophony of knives, hooks, and swords. Metal clanged upon metal, growing into a mountainous form. Two arms slammed down, smashing into the concrete with shattering force. Each was as tall and as thick as myself.

A wolf forged of death and steel glowered down at me.

This was a foe I could not defeat.

My swarm was useless. Hookwolf's flesh was made of steel. He had no eyes and no vital organs. If I struck with Taming Sari, the baton would bounce off. If I cleaved with Nanatsu-Yoru, I would cut a shallow, bloodless wound. If I bound him in spider silk, the cords would snap. He strength was too great and my threads too thin. Against Hookwolf, I had not the slightest chance at victory.

But I never needed one.

Hookwolf lunged. Swords of black and white _whomped_ by me before angling in like boomerangs. The pair of blades cut through Hookwolf's leading forepaw with the shriek of shearing metal. The bladed wolf missed a step and fell into a tumble.

Archer blurred out from the darkness, a long, straight sword forming in hand. Faint light gathered around the redhead, shielding him with glory. Then, an instant later, the heavenly prana reversed its position, reinforcing the blade instead. Before Hookwolf could rise, Archer swung. The weapon cut a beautiful arc, slicing through metal as through it were water.

Hookwolf howled, his voice a grating, rusty machine. The beast scrambled, shying away from the redhead. Empty sockets eyed Archer warily.

I hopped back, retreating five paces before dashing around the pair in a wide circle. My eyes were on Stormtiger. I had no interest in a fight between powerhouses. I knew what kind of cape I was best suited to deal with, and literal wolf made of blades definitely wasn't it.

My swarm struck while I repositioned.

The Undersiders' and Neo-Taiping could wrap up on their own, so I unhesitantly peeled several tens-of-thousands of bees, wasps, and spiders away from my chitinous tornado. The deadly troops formed ranks then split into half-a-dozen spears. The first swept in from above.

 _Pop. P-pop._

Stormtiger's aerokinesis cracked out in concussive blasts. The sound of it was akin to paper bags being brutally squashed. The shockwaves tore divots through my horde, dispersing my first blade and shattering my second.

But the third cut in from Stormtiger's back-and-right unbroken. At the same time, a platoon of eight legged paratroopers deployed from above.

Stormtiger called forth a whirlwind.

The sudden gale tore at my critters, sending them skittering in all directions. Enraged, the E88 Shaker turned toward me. Air condensed in his hands then shot out in a bullet. The shock wave was near invisible in the best of conditions. On a night as dark as this? Seeing it was impossible.

Fortunately I didn't have to. The bullet crashed through the heart of my swarm, revealing its presence. Time slowed. My weight shifted. With an easy, gliding dance I slid round the projectile then surged toward my target.

Nanatsu-Yoru in left hand, Taming Sari in right, I closed.

Stormtiger fired again. I ducked. His aggression came at a cost. Loose threads, guided by a hundred moths, were sucked into the spiraling wind. Stormtiger moved with expert precision, evading the strand that threatened to entrap his legs only to miss the one looping around his arm. The Empire cape noticed at the last second and tried to twist out.

He moved in exactly the wrong direction.

Instead of slipping past the strand, the cord wrapped around Stormtiger's wrist. A pity I hadn't a chance to anchor it to anything yet.

Then I was there.

Wind battered against my mask, heavy as a hand pressing down upon me. The roar filled my ears, drowning out all sound. But humans were heavier than insects and the storm did nothing to slow my mass. I stepped in. Taming Sari shot through the night. Stormtiger leaned back, bending like an acrobat. My thrust went wide. Before he could recover, I struck out again with a sharp jab. He stepped back.

A miss.

I spun my hips, finishing the combo with heavy sidekick. Stormtiger caught the blow with crossed arms. I hardly felt any force.

There was a brief break. We eyed each other warily. Stormtiger was as good as I expected. The E88 Shaker wasn't a soft, newbie cape. He was a hardened veteran forged by years in the arena. Blood and violence was his sport.

Stormtiger, on the other hand, was very surprised by me. The Empire cape shook his arms, letting out a grunt. He glowered in my direction before shattering a spear thrust of wasps with a hammer of wind. He flicked his hand. Heavy air tightened into a cord, then cut toward me in whipping blade.

I dodged under.

 _Bang!_

Hardened gas exploded. The sharp concussion left me staggered. Like a vicious animal, Stormtiger lunged into the gap. He made it two steps before the silk entangling his left arm caught. Thread stretched. The Shaker jolted, slowed, then suddenly jerked back.

Gotcha.

I surged forward. My left leg whipped out. A heavy roundhouse landed in Stormtiger's gut. The Shaker grunted, his body folding the slightest bit. Before he could recover, I reversed my turn. Taming Sari whistled down with all my weight and strength behind it.

 _Crack!_

The sound of metal striking skull was sickening. Taming Sari jumped in my grip. Stormtiger sank to his knees.

Without a second thought, I hopped to the right.

 _Whoomp. Bang. C-clatter._

A hunk of concrete as big as my chest _whooshed_ through the space my head had occupied half-a-second before. The boulder hit the street with a clatter, fragments breaking and scattering from the shock.

My gaze fell on Rune. The teenage Nazi was quivering while three hunks of debris orbited over her head.

"You broke my arm. You bitch!"

Given the tone of Rune's voice, it was hard to tell whether she was ranting or crying.

Rune gestured angrily. A second mass was lobbed in my direction. Too bad for her, this projectile was already wrapped in spider silk cord. The other half, of course, had been hooped around Rune's leg.

The result was pretty much as expected.

The heavy mass flew forward. Silken thread stretched. Rune's leg was ripped out from underneath her. The girl's shoulders hit the sidewalk followed shortly by her skull. Only then did the cord snap. But the impulse took its toll. The heavy debris dropped short, hitting the ground a good five meters away from me.

I didn't even bother trying to dodge.

Stormtiger let out a grunt. The man wobbled to his feet, looking as though he would fall at any second. The Empire cape's arm reached around to touch the back of his head. His hand came away wet with blood.

My gaze flicked past him to Hookwolf.

Archer's sword flashed with silver light, cutting shallow wounds along Hookwolf's limbs and gut. It was hard to tell what effect it had, if any. Hookwolf shied away from the blade, but he didn't seem terribly injured. Could a wolf made of blades even be killed? How could you tell if you hurt it?

Hookwolf hopped back, forepaws slamming into the ground with a ringing _clannng_. The metal beast turned. Steel squealed. His tail swept out, stretching into a lash of barbs and sword. Archer repelled the strike with his own weapon, rolling with the momentum. Sparks spewed brilliant in the night as the cape's tail whipped over the asphalt.

Archer, flipped back onto his feet unperturbed.

Hookwolf charged.

The massive beast rushed, not at Archer, but at Stormtiger and me. I instantly retreated. There was nothing I could do against a two-ton monster made of metal. If the two of us clashed, even briefly, Hookwolf would turn me into ground beef.

Thankfully, the Brute/Changer had no interest in my position. Instead the beast slowed near his companions. His tail of knives flattened and twisted, forming a chain of dulled barbs and thorns. The limb stretched out, catching clothes and pricking flesh as it swept up Stormtiger and Rune in turn.

Hookwolf gave Archer one last cold look, then ran.

It was probably the wisest thing he could've done.

If things were bad for the Empire before, they had been about to get a whole lot worse. The ABB/Neo-Taiping fight had come to an end. Judas and Angelica had Bạch Hổ pinned against the ground while Brutus chewed on the tiger's torn off wing. The vicious lizard dog eyed Hookwolf with the keen gaze of a hunter.

Facing odds like that, I'd be gone just as quick.

Of course, just because they wanted to leave didn't mean we'd let them. My swarm stretched out, a dark hand obscuring the heavens. Numerous insects were already planted on the bodies of all three Empire capes, letting me know the path of their retreat. Stopping them would be tricky. Hookwolf was faster than a man on foot, but Brutus could run him down. So long as Bitch's dog caught the Changer, we could –

"Leave them," Archer interrupted, cutting off my thoughts. "They aren't what we're here for."

I shot him a questioning look, feeling a flash of irritation. We were letting them go?

Then, thinking about it, I realized he was right. The point of today's excursion was cleaning out the old ABB and settling their affairs. Hunting Hookwolf would eat too many resources. At a minimum we'd need one of Bitch's mounts and Archer's muscle. Pulling heavy hitters without giving the team a chance to secure the prisoners? That was asking Bạch Hổ to make a break for it.

Besides, I had names. And, if Tattletale held her bargain, I would soon have a whole lot more.

The Empire was already sitting in the palms of our hands.

Archer gave a quiet nod when he saw me relax. The two of us forged our way toward the main battlefield.

The ABB soldiers had been captured. A third were on the ground, rolling in pain and coughing up blood. The rest had their hands behind their head as they sat in surrender position. Machina's Neo-Taiping moved amongst them, securing the gangsters with ropes and plastic cuffs.

"Everything under control?" Archer asked, overlooking the scene.

Grue stepped away from Bạch Hổ. The tiger's form quickly melted. Fur and muscles sank into human skin. The man fixed us with a disdainful sneer, which had somehow survived his defeat.

"Victory by numbers? Is this what Unit 09 is capable of? Your reputation is inflated," Bạch Hổ spat sourly.

"Other than the complaints, I think we'll be fine," Grue answered, ignoring Bạch Hổ.

I followed Grue's lead. I didn't want to get caught up arguing with an overly arrogant asshole any more than he did. Instead, my eyes flicked to Machina.

"What's the plan for the prisoners?"

It was an important question to ask. While I didn't think Machina would do anything excessive, the level of control she had over the Neo-Taiping was questionable to say the least. It would be far too easy for either of her lieutenants to go behind her back.

"Not part of the job," Grue replied with a shrug. He looked over his shoulder as though giving the issue a passing thought, then looked back.

Yeah. Not his problem. Exactly what I'd expect. It was easy to forget that Grue was a villain. He wasn't doing this job to play nice. Since Grue wasn't about to answer, I turned my gaze toward Tattletale. The freckled blonde was sitting on the roof of a truck, legs dangling just above the bed.

"Don't be such a worry wort. If the Neo-Taiping was going to dump them into the bay, they would've stuck to guns. At worst, they'll toss a few to the cops and use Tinker magic to ensure the rest never set a foot in Brockton Bay ever again," Tattletale supplied.

"I've already talked to Machina about this and made clear Unit 09's expectations," Archer added.

If Archer was fine with it, so was I.

"Say, how much do you think I'd get if I bribed Caster with this?" Tattletale lifted the case the ABB leader offered.

"We would get," Grue reminded.

Tattletale stuck out a tongue. Real mature.

"What is it?" Archer asked with interest.

"Bakuda's bombs," I supplied.

Yeah. Right up front I could say that I definitely wasn't comfortable with the thought of Caster tearing apart one of Bakuda's weapons. From Archer's frown, he seemed to agree.

"It's probably better if we don't let them in the house," the redhead decided.

"Two million," Bạch Hổ interrupted. His lips curled. "You won't get a better offer. Not without the right connections."

I turned with a frown. Bạch Hổ met my gaze, haughty.

" _Wheehoo_ ," Regent whistled. "That's a good bit of cash. I say we take it."

I shot the renaissance cape a look.

"Whether we sell or don't is not for us to decide," Grue commented, nodding toward Archer.

"No. No. You misunderstood," Regent continued, his voice teasing. "I say we _take_ it."

Bạch Hổ's expression turned into an angry scowl. The big man started to stand. Judas put one paw on his back and shoved him back down.

"Sit!" Bitch ordered.

Tattletale kicked her legs, the heel of her shoes bouncing off the truck's back window. "You're terrible," the freckled blonde declared.

"You might even say I'm a villain," Regent replied with a bow.

"You'll never see a dime without my help," Bạch Hổ hissed. He glared at us. "I have friends. They won't let this go."

"Yeesh, you're really a sore loser," Tattletale said. She gave us a foxy smile. "I say we empty his bank accounts. It'll be fun."

Archer let out a grunt that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "We'll hand him over to Caster. I want to know who he was buying those bombs for and why."

"And the case?" I reminded.

"Machina's a Tinker, she might be interested," Grue noted, catching that we weren't eager to sell.

"Wouldn't hurt," Tattletale added with a shrug. "It's Bakuda's work. The PRT snagged her lab, but Machina is sure to have a few dozen samples to play with. A couple more won't hurt."

Honestly, giving the bombs to Machina didn't sound a whole lot better than giving them to Caster. Machina was too new. More importantly, she hadn't been around long enough to show that kind of trust. But Tattletale had a point. For better or worse, Machina already had access to Bakuda's tech. Giving her more wouldn't introduce new risks.

"If Caster's interested in Tinker work, we could put her and Machina in the same room together," I mused. "Would that help?"

"I'd rather she didn't touch them at all," Archer muttered under his breath. Then he came to a decision. "We'll store them in the toolshed for now. That's the safest place. Asking for Machina's expertise is a good idea, but I want to see more of her tech before I let her play with anything dangerous."

Machina was probably already playing with dangerous things. That said, Archer was definitely more worried about Caster getting in over her head than Machina blowing herself up.

Or, rather, he couldn't do anything about Machina's decisions.

Tattletale stood up. "Then if we're decided, we should – "

Her words hung in still air.

The sentence didn't finish. One second Tattletale spoke. Then next she was gone. And not just her. The truck had vanished with her. In its place I found a massive, bulging armadillo monster. Dozens of rippling tentacles rose from the armored creature's back. The rubbery arms swayed like curtains in the wind then suddenly shot out.

If not for Taming Sari, I would've been snatched amidst my shock.

Instead, I leapt back.

Guided by supernatural grace, I slipped just out of reach of the long arm that whipped through my prior position. The tentacle seemed to pause then reflexively curl when it reached, grasping naught but air.

The others were not so quick.

Grue was snatched by a thick, rubbery arm before he could react. In an instant, he was hoisted off the ground then raised three meters into the air. He wasn't the only victim. A pair of tentacles wrapped round Brutus, snagging him around legs and back. Another wrapped itself around Judas's neck while a fourth snapped out toward Angelica's tail.

The alien lizard dog let out pained _yip_.

While the armadillo was huge, Bitch's dogs weren't small either. They jerked and thrashed in the monster's grip. Their incredible weight was enough to make the armadillo lurch. The monster's feet clawed at the ground as it fought to keep its balance, talons tearing apart concrete.

Then Archer struck.

The armadillo's tentacles had missed the redhead entirely. It took less than a second for Archer to regain his pace. A pair of swords flickered out, slashing through the rubbery limb that lashed out toward his face. Thick, black blood exploded from the appendage. But the armadillo had tentacles to spare. Two more flashed toward the redhead, forcing him to dance around them.

In our distraction, Bạch Hổ surged to his feet. Electrified fur quickly spread until it covered his skin.

Machina and the others started to move.

But my thoughts were focused on something else.

Tattletale had vanished. A monster appeared in her place. Disintegration? Unlikely. Teleportation? Plausible. But, given how the truck went missing at the same time the monster appeared, the power felt closer to replacement.

A name immediately jumped into my head.

Trickster.

Brockton Bay wasn't Boston. This was my home ground, where I could operate at my best. I had been given more than enough time to memorize every cape in this city and learn their powers forward and back. And where things were uncertain? Well, for that I had Tattletale's speculations.

I was informed. Trickster meant the Travelers. The Travelers meant Genesis. And Genesis meant –

"It's a projection!" I yelled.

Archer's motions changed the instant those words left my lips.

In one second, Archer's blade carved shallow wounds. In the next, his white sword hewed straight through rubbery flesh. Half a tentacle flew from its stump, spraying out a river of blood. Archer's left hand flashed. A black blade _whomp_ _ed_ as it spun. The sword arched between two limbs to strike the tentacle holding Grue. The weapon sank to its hilt.

But that alone was not enough to make Genesis let go.

Then Judas tore himself free.

"Kill!"

Bitch's order sounded the moment paws touched earth. Judas lunged. A metric tonne of bone, and muscle crashed into one of Genesis's limbs. Dagger-like teeth bit down with crushing force. The alien-lizard dog jerked his head. His sheer mass was enough to make the armadillo stumble half a step to the left.

Then a tiger slammed into Judas's back.

Bạch Hổ and Judas went down in a tumbling ball of thunder cat and demon dog. Brilliant lightning lit the night, accompanied by tendrils of smoke. Judas trembled as the blades bit deep, twisting erratically against the grapple.

The trashing ball smashed into Genesis and shook Grue loose.

Even in the chaos, my thoughts did not slow the slightest bit.

Trickster was categorized as a Mover. His power took the form of teleportation. Not of himself, but rather of other objects – living or unliving. From what I understood, he couldn't simply switch objects as he pleased. It had to be a swap. Not only that, the mass of two objects had to be roughly the same.

More importantly, Trickster was limited by line of sight.

And that meant he couldn't be far.

The natural range of my power floated around two-hundred-and-forty meters. Sometimes a little longer. Sometimes a little shorter. It wasn't impossible for Trickster to be within that space – I could miss things – but it was definitely impossible for Tattletale to be within it. I tagged my allies as a matter of habit, and I couldn't feel the bugs I placed on her.

Easily fixed.

 _Anfang Käfer_.

My secondary circuits surged. My power twisted. The process was made familiar by experience. The change was quick and easy. Strength was traded for reach. My range doubled. Then it doubled again.

Tattletale's tags flickered back into existence. Seven-hundred meters south-west.

"I need transport!" I shouted.

In my brief few seconds of distraction, Archer had reduced Genesis's sixteen tentacles down to eleven. The armadillo looked pale. Blood gushed from open wounds. In order to slow the redhead's advance, Genesis had snagged a trio of Neo-Taiping soldiers. The Master used them – along with poor Brutus – as improptu shields, forcing Archer to consider every motion.

But even with that, delaying Archer was the best she could do.

Archer danced amongst rubbery limbs like a god of war. Everywhere he went, swords flicked out. Tentacles were sliced, chopped, and hewn. Nearby, Judas and Bạch Hổ continued their brawl. The roles were swapped, with Judas taking the lead while the tiger tried to retreat. Still caught in Genesis's grip, Angelica chomped and twisted. Then Psycho-Killer rushed in, slashing into the grappling arm with a katana.

 _B-b-bang. B-bang. Bang!_

In the same second, four thugs and Cyber-eye opened fire. Bullets blossomed into flowers of blood when the struck the armadillo's body. Genesis's eye shifted into their direction. Her tentacles swayed. Then all at once, she hucked two Neo-taiping soldiers straight at them.

The group went down like a set of bowling pins. With a howl, Angelica pulled herself free.

From Bitch's crouched shoulders, I could sense her vicious anger. Her gaze shifted subtly between Genesis and Bạch Hổ as though contemplating the better target.

"Help Overmind!" Grue ordered, echoing my previous command.

The Shaker laid down a column of smoke, briefly catching Genesis's head in the darkness. Bitch glowered. For a second I thought the butch girl would refuse.

Then she let out a sharp whistle.

"Angelica, come!"

Angelica peeled away from the mass of tentacles, then shot around Genesis with shocking agility. Bitch snagged a bone spike as Angelica wheeled past, then threw herself atop the mount. The butch girl shifted her weight, directing Angelica toward me. I was already running at them. We met halfway, the bone strewn lizard thing slowing so I could climb on its back.

Apparently I wasn't fast enough, because Bitch helped to haul me up.

"Where is she!" Bitch demanded.

The butch girl's tone wasn't just angry. It was raving. The emotion left me disoriented. Bitch always struck me as standoffish, as though she didn't care about the rest of her team. But apparently she did, if only in her own twisted way.

"South west," I answered. A line of fireflies lit the path.

"Go!"

Angelica exploded forward. Bony spikes rammed into my back. I grimaced, thankful for my costume. The gap between us began to fall. Six-hundred meters. Five-hundred. I eased up on my power, letting my range fall down to double. The increased leverage brought bigger insects into my swarm. I pulled upon them, quickly forming a throng near the Travelers.

Trickster was on a distant roof, arguing with Sundancer. A pair of binoculars rested in the top hatted man's lowered hand. Sundancer was on the ground, not far from the stolen truck. Her costume consisted of form fitting black body armor emblazoned with red suns. My swarm was too thin to pick up her words, but from her tone and posture I could tell she wasn't happy.

It wasn't hard to see why.

Tattletale was still on the back of the truck. She had abandoned her position on the roof for a more stable place on the bed. In her left hand was the case. In her right, a short and stubby pistol. The gun was pointed in Sundancer's direction.

Somehow, I doubted that Sundancer's costume was bullet proof.

Tattletale said something. Trickster snapped. Sundancer tried to play negotiator. Ballistic – a big man in angular, black armor – had heard enough.

The big man tossed a small object, then caught it his hand. The next instant, the object vanished. Tattletale jerked. The truck's back and front windows exploded into gravel-like shards. No blood, but I could see the freckled blonde shudder. Belatedly, she shifted her pistol toward Ballistic.

"-'d -ove, - I -re y-"

My growing swarm could almost make out Ballistic's words.

"-u w-ldn'-"

Two more objects shot from the Blaster's hand, this time dangerously close to Tattletale's head. The freckled girl's face went pale. While she shook, Ballistic walked forward. The large man put a hand on the truck. Tattletale's expression twisted. Without hesitation she scrambled to the edge then jumped off.

Right on time. Because in the next second, the truck turned into a fucking missile.

And it was aimed at us.

"Right!" I screamed into Bitch's ear.

The girl growled, but tugged Angelica right.

 _Crash!_

Metal crumbled. Glass shattered. The front of the truck flattened into an accordion. Then the truck flipped, tumbling end over end. The landing point was a good thirty meters ahead, but that did nothing to reduce the truck's deadliness. The metal vehicle rolled straight through the space we had occupied, not stopping until it had plowed into the side of a building, leaving a gaping hole in the wall.

Tattletale barely had time to regain her footing before Trickster swapped her with Sundancer. Thrice. The freckled blonde wobbled. Ballistic punched her in the face. Tattletale dropped. Ballistic kicked the gun from her hand then ripped the case from her loose grip.

Three hundred meters. We were close now.

My mind flicked to the battle behind. In the seconds since we left, the fight between Archer and Genesis reached a boiling point. Bereft of more than half her tentacles, the armadillo monster decided to throw itself at Archer. It was a good move, on the surface. With her size, Genesis would be difficult to dodge. And if she caught the redhead, it would be easy to pin him under her weight.

Unfortunately, Archer was too damn fast.

When Genesis charged, Archer ducked into a low squat then whirled to the side. His blades swept through the armadillo's neck as he made his motion. Genesis gurgled then turned. But by then Archer had already reversed. This time he went high instead of low. A tentacle whipped out. Dual swords left the redhead's hands, then sheered through the limb at the root. Archer twisted in midair, a giant stone blade forming in his hands.

 _Boom!_

The thinned remnants of my horde jolted as the weapon fell down. The sword slammed onto the armadillo's back, crushing bone and tearing flesh with its incredible mass.

Genesis's projection fell apart.

Victory.

But Archer was long while away from providing support.

Two-hundred meters.

A sun descended upon our path.

Heavenly light split the night like a knife. Dazzling rays fell upon everything, illuminating all the buildings as though it were midday. The heat was oppressive. The radiance sizzled against my skin. The air rippled in a fiery mirage. The parts of my swarm caught within thirty meters of the inferno incinerated on the spot. I needed no guesses to know what would happen to me.

"Don't go through," I warned. "Go around!"

"I'm not stupid," Bitch spat.

Angelica made a sharp left. We weren't in the boat graveyard any longer. Not properly anyway. This space was relegated to old warehouses and train-tracks that supported the docks. All along it were spots of residences, some illuminated with yellowed light.

The sun slewed in our direction. Concrete buildings melted like wax as they were passed over by the star. A few fires spurted as inflammable objects caught in the brutal light. My expression darkened. I was glad that we had chosen to circle left, passing through the less populated section of the bay. Here it was more empty lots and concrete structures than old residences like those that spotted the north. Still, that was hardly enough to alleviate my agitation.

Time was not on my side. The Travelers had the advantage of distance. Archer was closing, but nowhere near fast enough. Ballistic had grabbed Tattletale, against Sundancer's objection. The three of them dragged the freckled blonde on a quick retreat toward the small hatchback they had stashed around a far corner.

In twenty more seconds this would turn into a running fight.

I unleashed my swarm. The mass of insects had been building since the start of the chase. They now formed a growing cloud. One that would surge to double its current size when the troops from the field behind arrived. The wave of chitin rolled over the hatchback, carpeting the intake. The Travelers pulled open the doors. Ballistic threw Tattletale in the back. Trickster turned the key, but not before half-a-dozen hornets jabbed their stingers into his face.

Trickster slapped at the bugs. The car coughed twice then started. He shouted something toward the back. Sundancer's star winked out, only to appear smaller and weaker five meters from the hatchback. The small sun circled the vehicle, charring my swarm.

Trickster pushed the pedal to the floor. _Reee!_ Tires squealed.

They made it all of five meters before a sword dropped down on their engine block.

I couldn't help but flick my awareness back in shock. Archer had positioned himself atop a one story shack, with bow in hand. Still, he was a good five-hundred meters away. Aiming at a moving vehicle. With an indirect shot.

No matter how I looked at it, Archer was a monster. Were Rin and the rest absolutely sure he didn't have a superpower snuck in there? Because that kind of aim was inhuman.

The hatchback jumped. The engine cylinders froze. The vehicle skipped two meters out of control. My swarm let loose an angry buzz. The Travelers had no choice but to abandon their vehicle.

A hundred-meters now.

The Travelers ran. They didn't make it more than five steps before they smashed face first into my horde. This wasn't just the thin cloud of bees and beetles I'd set on them before. This was a living wall of buzzing, chitinous, horror. Sundancer shifted her fireball forward. My swarm rolled around it, coiling over the group like a constrictor.

The throng dropped in a rain of terror.

Sundancer's star caught them by the thousand, but that was barely enough to make a dent in the tsunami of chittering insects. Bugs hit them in a wave, carpeting their forms in living mass. Sundancer went down with a shriek. Trickster stumbled. Ballistic only remained standing through sheer grit.

Then we were there. My swarm parted, the roar of buzzing wings settling to a low hum. I hopped off Angelica, quietly approaching while hidden by the disorienting mass of bugs. Bitch and her dog circled around, both growling with threat.

Trickster spat up a mouthful of insects. He reached over and dragged Tattletale close before putting a pistol against her head. Her pistol.

"Stand back," Trickster warned.

"You sure you want to do that?" I said. My voice was ice cold. My swarm seemed to echo my words, forming a tone that was both alien and terrible. "The last person who tried it ended up dead."

"I'd listen to her," Tattletale interjected. The freckled blonde looked nauseous. I guess this wasn't the kind of adrenaline rush she preferred. "Seriously, Unit 09 doesn't play around."

"For God's sake Trickster, let her go," Sundance said. She sounded angry, tried, and worried. "Just let her go. We're only here for the package."

"I have things under control," Trickster hissed.

The top hatted man shot a glare at his companion, before flicking his gaze toward Archer. The redhead was rushing toward us at a fast clip. Ballistic backed up a couple of steps, almost as though saying 'this has nothing to do with me'.

My swarm shifted, forming illusionary ripples.

"Please, Trickster. Let her go," Sundancer pleaded. "Please. This isn't what we are. Why do you have to keep pushing?"

"I have things under control." This time Trickster's words were accusing. "Do you want to give up on Noelle? Because that's what you're doing. Giving up."

"That's..."

"Talk is cheap," Bitch spat. The butch girl had clearly heard enough. "You let her go, or I'll tear you –"

She vanished.

Fuck.

A heavy rock rolled off Angelica's back. The demon dog let out a frightening growl then charged. The great beast made it three steps toward to Trickster before being swapped for the now, heavily beaten truck. _Bang. Reee_. Sparks flew as the vehicle hit the ground, skidding three meters. The metal mass bumped into Trickster, knocking him off balance.

The pistol in his hand clicked under Trickster's reflexive grip. Fortunately, I had already used my bugs to disable the weapon.

While Trickster was dazed, Tattletale scrambled out of his grip

My swarm descended in a black wave.

"Clear the fucking bugs!" Trickster shouted.

The top hatted man wobbled to his feet. A sun appeared in the sky, banishing the dark. Waves of heat ripped through my swarm, but the black cloud flowed in like the tide. Sundancer scrunched back in terror.

"I said clear the-"

 _Fthuupt!_

A steel arrow sprouted from Trickster's leg. Trickster dropped. Somehow his top hat stayed on. Must be tied. Trickster's head turned in Archer's direction. Shit. Before I could shift my swarm and obscure his vision, Archer vanished replaced by a pile of wood.

I moved.

Trickster's red mask twisted toward me. A mistake. His power caught my bug clone then failed on account of mistaken mass. The swarm of beetles, worms, and crawling critters spattered all over the Mover, drowning him in a flow of insects. At the same time I circled around and struck at Ballistic's back.

The large man caught my motion at the last instant. Not that did him any good.

 _Crack_. Taming Sari smashed into his temple. Ballistic jolted. The blow felt wrong. Too sharp. Too hard. His helmet was armored. Ballistic turned. I stepped back, buying myself space to maneuver. In the same second, a small metal bolt shot from the Blaster's hand. _Ting_. The projectile deflected off my baton.

My left hand swept out. A knife glinted in under Sundancer's brilliant light.

Two weeks back when I fought Bakuda, I had sworn that I'd learn how to throw knives. I had made good on that promise. The blade took Ballistic in the thigh. The large man grunted. Trickster swept the bugs from his eyes then spat out a mouthful of wiggling critters.

He turned toward me. I whirled my prana, hoping it would help.

 _Fthuupt!_

Another arrow flew in. This time it penetrated deep into Trickster's shoulder.

"STOP!"

Sundancer's shout echoed in the night.

To my surprise, everyone stopped. Then again, I was happy to let them. Ballistic was on his knees. Four or five nuts and bolts in hand. There was a hesitation in him. He could have shot. I knew he could have shot. But, he must have been asking himself whether he could handle that level of escalation. Because Archer's next arrow could easily end up sprouting from a head or a neck.

"Just stop," Sundancer repeated. "Give them the case."

Ballistic looked to Trickster. "Do it," he grunted.

Trickster scowled. My swarm eased back, settling. It was a risk, but Tattletale had pulled away and was nearing my side. On top of that, Bitch was closing in, soon to be jointed by Judas, Brutus, Grue, and Regent. Even an idiot could tell they had lost.

"Noe –"

"How do you expect to save Noelle if you're DEAD!" Sundancer screamed. The woman took a few breaths to calm down before looking at me. "Please. I know it's too much, but let us go."

I looked to Tattletale.

"Ballistic smacked me in the jaw pretty hard, but they weren't planning to hold onto me for more than a few blocks," Tattletale said. She gave Sundancer a glance. "Besides, it's kind of my fault. I shouldn't have pulled out the gun."

I frowned.

"I'll put in a word for you with Archer," I said reluctantly.

As far as I knew, Unit 09 had no plans for the Travelers. In fact, I wasn't sure the PRT would take them either. The Traveler's record was filled with question marks and unsubstantiated assertions. That said, I wasn't the senior member of this sortie. Archer held the final decision, but I was pretty sure he would let them go.

Archer was a bit of a softy.

"But, before I do, I want know who's after the case and why," I demanded. Then my tone turned threatening. "And I sure as hell better not see you again after or –"

Tattletale jerked. Scattered droplets hit my face. The smell of blood ripped through my swarm.

I turned in horror only to watch the freckled blonde drop like a wet rag.

 _bang._

A gun's retort arrived soon after.

-oOo-

 _ **Ascalon** [Canonical Phantasm]_

 _Projected Noble Phantasm – Rank C – Anti-Unit_

 _The holy sword of Saint George. Ascalon grants 'invincibility' to its wielder. However, its power can be reversed, creating a blade that can pierce any armor. Or, as need might have it, a giant, metal wolf._

" **Nine Lives" Axe-Sword** _[Canonical Phantasm]  
False Phantasm – Rank NULL (B+) – Anti-Unit_

 _The axe-sword is n_ _ot a true noble phantasm, but rather the catalyst through which the 5_ _th_ _Grail War's Berserker was summoned. The_ _a_ _xe-_ _s_ _word is a_ _n incredibly_ _massive weapon made of rock and augmented by a_ _s_ _ervant's soul. Despite the fact that this phantasm is 'false', Shirou Emiya_ _is_ _able to_ _project_ _Berserker's skill and monstrous strength_ _into the_ _tool._ _As such, the weapon is elevated to_ _the_ _status of a 'false phantasm' and made to contain the combat technique "Nine-Lives"._


	21. Chapter 21

-oOo-  
 **Chapter 21**  
-oOo-

"It wasn't us." Sundancer's voice shook with horror, her throat constricting until it squeaked. "I swear. It wasn't us."

I didn't hear a word of it.

The sounds flowed through one ear and out the other. Indecipherable. Meaningless. I was numb. Empty. A soulless void. My thoughts were trapped in the prior moment. Frozen upon the still image of Tattletale's fall. The blood exploding from her skull. Her body slumping toward the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Deep within, terrible emotions stirred.

Antediluvian anger burned in me. It rose like a torrent. A raging wildfire that swept through my swarm. The motionless horde erupted. Wings buzzed, jaws chittered, the mass unleashed an unearthly, soul searing screech. A ghastly howl. Primordial emotions given voice then twisted by alien distortion. All at once, the air was filled endless insects. They rampaged with mindless fury, forming a chaotic storm. My feelings echoed in the mass, feeding on themselves until they transformed into some terrible eldritch thing.

"Run."

Ballistic's voice croaked. Roaches and wasps pattered against his mask like hail or heavy rain. Others tore at his costume with pincers and stingers. The man wrenched the combat knife from his thigh, then lurched to his feet. Blood oozed from the wound, the stench of it spreading as a pool formed in the fabric.

"But – " Sundancer noised, the woman's gaze shot from side-to-side in panic. The Shaker half cringed away from the blind throng, shielded in part by the tiny star orbiting over her head.

"Run!"

Ballistic roared. Ballistic didn't waste a second. He ran. He ran without a single glance back. The giant Striker crashed through the chaotic horde, rushing away from Sundancer's illumination and deep into the dark.

The chittering of my swarm grew louder. Insects poured in like a river, drawn toward me from every direction.

"I – I'm sorry," Sundancer apologized. Her hands shook with terror. "I'm so sorry."

With that, she reached down and grabbed Trickster. The red-masked Mover gave me a nasty look then turned his head toward a distant locale. In a moment, the pair vanished, replaced by loose rubble.

I never noticed any of it.

Something inside me broke. My secondary circuits suddenly turned on. They seethed with prana outside my control, like snakes wiggling in my back. My power expanded. My range doubled at its own will. Then it doubled again. My circuits burned as though filled with lava. My power growled like a loathsome beast. It reached out. Space twisted. The edges of my range warped and warbled, stretching out in spikes and waves.

My horde went mad.

I didn't control them. I couldn't control them. My existence shattered into layers. One fragment oversaw my swarm. In that piece existed my anger. My indignation. My abominable rancor given form. Heteroclite emotions concocted from insect, Taylor, and extraterrestrial shard. The aggregate stewed, boiling in a cauldron constructed from incomprehensible dimensions until it amalgamated into an uncontrollable, monstrous will.

The rest of me turned into crystal.

My heart went still, my soul as clear as a lake. Feelings vanished, leaving naught but glacial logic. Human eyes fell upon Tattletale while insect antennas scoured the world. My thoughts were mechanical. Efficient. Lacking any form of self-deceit.

A head shot. The bullet struck above her right ear, then exited near the left. Instant death.

I blinked. No. That was a misconception There was no such thing as instant death. Humans weren't bodies. They were cells. A lump of living tissue strung together by a system of infrastructure. Heart. Lungs. Blood. Veins and arteries. The last two had been torn apart along the wound channel. The cells surrounding shattered by the hydrostatic shock.

Those parts were dead and gone.

But in the space outside, the remaining matter lived on. Trillions of cells. Individual fragments that made up the gestalt called Tattletale. Those pieces held onto their last breath, fueled by scattered molecules of oxygen. But the pipelines were ruptured. The brain hemorrhaged. The last cells screamed in agony, awaiting the death knell called apoptosis.

The life that lingered was but an illusion. A ghost clinging to its past. A phantom on the verge of vanishing from this world.

Unless, of course, something were to interrupt it.

I had such a something.

Avalon.

Realization gave birth to hope. Hope, like a hammer, cracked the boundary dividing affect from rationality. My hands started to shake. Desperately, they reached for my mask, frantically working the belts and buckles. After a few fumbles, I tore it off. But my quest was far from complete. With increasing frenzy, I shoved a hand down the neck of my costume and grabbed at the beetle necklace hidden beneath.

"Archer!" My shout had a panicked tinge to it.

My swarm was seething. Insects heedlessly struck out at anything I might register as an enemy. There was no sense of formation, no solidified numbers, only pure chaos. Madness and unfocused rage were the Traveler's fortune. With it, angry jaws and stingers were like raindrops. Without it, thick carpets of chitin would have enveloped their forms before reducing them into bloody meat.

But though the horde was blind, it possessed awareness. The throng swirled around me, expanding out in a spiraling mass. Thick rivulets flowed into nooks and crannies. Streams slipped into buildings and warehouses. As one, my swarm searched. It searched with mindless obsession and terrible fury.

Then the scent of powder hit.

A great jolt ran through my horde. Like a great beast, the scattered mass turned, drawn to the sharp, fresh scent of a gun's discharge. For the briefest moment, the night hung in eerie silence. All was still. Then a billion wings beat as one. The world howled. The throng surged forward, rushing toward the sniper nestled on the third floor of a building a full kilometer away.

A mosquito was the first to find him. Gnats gathered shortly after, landing on his neck, drinking his sweat. The taste and smell was like static knives plunging into my brain. A thousand eyes united as one. In an instant, I grasped his appearance. Male. Lanky, but fit. A long rifle rested in his lap, already half disassembled. His clothes? A standard-issue PRT helmet and body armor.

Somewhere, deep within the buzzing swarm, my anger grew louder.

My hand gripped the beetle necklace. I quickly wrenched it out of my costume. All at once, I sank to my knees and pressed the jeweled ornament against Tattletale's chest. The blonde girl twitched. Her fingers trembled. One eye cracked open, pupil turning toward me.

My breath stilled.

"C-" she gurgled. "C-calver..."

Her head lolled.

It felt as though I had swallowed a lump of ice.

My hand tightened. The necklace ground into my palm. Dammit. I had the necklace, but, what was it worth on its own? I needed Avalon. The damn sheath. But, how could I pull it out? I never asked. Fucking hell, why did I never ask?

A pair of armored boots scuffed the pavement next to me. Archer squatted down at me side. A reassuring hand drooped atop my head, but I didn't miss that his expression was grim.

Terror roiled in my swarm like a shout before echoing back. My heart felt heavy. My hands were covered in sweat. I was shaky, nervous. I could barely breathe without wanting to choke.

"Tattletale – "

" _Trace on."_

Rather than answer, Archer muttered his aria. He drew his hand from my head, a familiar blue sheath forming in his grip. Archer placed Avalon atop Tattletale's chest. A whisper of golden light coiled around it, drawn from the topaz beetle sitting at it's side. My quickening breath eased.

"I need to take her to Caster, now," Archer informed. His tone brooked no argument.

"Will she live?"

Archer stood, lifting Tattletale in both arms. I looked up, hopeful. Archer did not answer.

"They killed her," Bitch's growl interrupted my thoughts. The butch girl sat on Angelica's back, her eyes burning with deep, animal rage. "Then I'll fucking kill them. I'll tear them apart."

Bitch let out a series of sharp whistles. Angelica huffed then put her nose to the ground, sniffing for The Travelers' scent.

I stood, shoving my mixed emotion back into my swarm. Clinical cold covered me with its comfortable shroud. Tattletale's fate was out of my hands. I wasn't a healer. I couldn't help her. Rather than focus on the things I couldn't do, it was better to focus on the things I could.

Like the sniper.

And the Undersiders.

"Don't." My command was arctic.

Bitch turned on me in rage. "You're telling me to fucking stop?"

"They didn't kill her."

Of that much I was certain. I couldn't forget Sundancer's shock. The Travelers didn't plan this. Of course, that didn't mean they were innocent either. Their timing and positioning was suspicious, to say the least. They may well have been used.

Or, just as easily, they might merely have been taken advantage of. Luck was real, and so were precognitive Thinkers.

My head turned toward the sniper's position. The gunman had finished packing his weapon and was rushing down the stairs. He touched the first floor when my horde hit. An incredible wave of insects blasted into the building like a physical force. The man gave them one glance, fixed a rebreather to his mask, then hit a switch.

 _Poof. Poof. Poof._ Dozens of bug bombs went off on every floor. Not just in the building the sniper occupied, but on the roof and alleyways nearby. Thin sprays of poison mist filled the air, thickening until they clouded the sky with a persistent fog. My swarm wavered. Thousands, then tens-of-thousands of bugs dropped. But the horde did not stop. The throng thinned as it charged forward. Hundreds hit him then bit down. They were a mixed lot. Most couldn't even be called a threat.

Jaws filled with the taste of blood, the last of my insects fell. With dying eyes, I saw the sniper rush out the bottom floor. After that, I had nothing left with which to observe.

I scowled. The whole thing was a god damned setup.

"Lisa's dead? Well, that sucks."

Regent's comment shook me from my thoughts. I turned. The Renaissance cape had arrived alongside Grue. The pair were on Judas's back. Brutus pattered past, bumping up next to his master Bitch, who quickly changed mounts.

"Don't say her name," Grue reminded. "And have some fucking respect."

"She's dead, what does it matter?" Regent pointed out.

"She's not dead." I stated. I looked at Archer.

Under Archer's guidance, Avalon sank into Tattletale's chest. Once the sheath was in place, Archer moved my beetle necklace, wrapping it around Tattletale's neck.

"She'll survive," Archer answered seeming satisfied. He gave me a comforting nod. "But I need to take her to Caster." The redhead looked over at Grue. "Can you clean up here?"

"Whoa, she took a shot to the head and she's alive?" Regent noised appreciatively. "I don't know whether her luck's good or shit."

Grue slammed an elbow into Regent's gut. Regent choked. Served the asshole right. With that problem solved, the skull faced cape addressed Archer.

"Don't worry about it. Just look after Tattletale."

Archer nodded. "Overmind, with me."

"We just going to let them get away with it?" Bitch spat.

"No," I interrupted. "We aren't.

Archer frowned. I met the redhead's steely gaze with my own.

"I've tracked the sniper to the building over there," I said, pointing toward the west. "But he used bug bombs to cover his escape. Hundreds of them, all wired to a switch. No way that's last minute prep. This was an assassination. He knew we'd be here. He knew that if he waited, he'd get a shot."

I paused, allowing my words time to sink in, then I continued emphatically. "We can't let him escape. Someone's gunning for us, and gunning hard. The sniper is our only clue."

No. Not our only one. I had a lead of my own. Coil.

But I couldn't announce that out loud. Not right now. Tattletale had shared that information with me in confidence. More to the point, pulling out Coil's name now would create unnecessary contentions. I had no way of knowing how the Undersiders would react.

Further, I couldn't be absolutely sure it was him. I only had Tattletale's word to back me up. Coil hired mercenaries. The sniper could have been his. Though the man was dressed in PRT colors, putting together a fake uniform was easy enough. But, just the same, the sniper could be part of the PRT proper. Hell, they had plenty of motive. Butcher and Boston were more than enough.

And that was hardly the last of the threats.

The E88 was gunning for us. This kind of plot didn't feel like Kaiser, but as Tattletale said, Gesellschaft was providing advice. If they had the right Thinker, pulling a job like this would be easy. What's more, the Empire had the most to gain if Unit 09 went to war with everyone else.

And I couldn't dismiss Accord.

No matter who I wanted to accuse, I needed proof. Not to move my team. Caster wouldn't give a fuck. But I needed proof to flip the Undersiders. If Coil did this, he'd touched Grue's bottom line. That'd put the Undersiders firmly on our side.

More importantly, I wanted to be sure. If Unit 09 attacked the wrong group... well, we'd still find the assassin. Magecraft and Hypnosis were utter bullshit like that. But it'd sure as hell be a lot cleaner and faster if we started in the right place.

Besides, like Bitch said, no matter who the sniper was working for I wasn't going to let the fucker get away with it.

In the face of Archer's hesitation, Grue spoke up. "We'll have her back."

I twitched. The sniper resurfaced half-a-block from his prior position. My swarm picked him up the moment he stepped out of the fog. Rather than immediately strike, I spread the horde thin. Then I stealthily snuck a few critters into the vehicle he had prepared.

The sniper slipped into the driver's seat.

"We have to go, now." I gave Archer a challenging look.

Archer returned a steady gaze. Then he looked at the body in his arms. Tattletale's limp form was pale. Faint light coiled around her. The blood oozing from her head slowed. Her chest fell and rose. Still alive. She's still alive. I reminded myself of that, each breath stiff and fearful.

"Don't take risks!" Archer warned, sharply. "One's already too many."

I nodded. Archer took off. His movements were smooth and fast. I watched after and hoped for the best.

Tattletale was alive.

… but would she be whole?

I shuddered, then buried my emotions within my swarm. I walked toward Angelica. My gaze swept the Undersiders.

"No matter what happens, no matter who asks, Tattletale died," I said grimly. "Until Unit 09 says otherwise, Tattletale died. Got that?"

My statement was directed at Grue more than the rest. If Coil really was behind this plot, it was better he thought her dead. Both for Tattletale's safety and so he'd be caught off guard when it came time for counter attack. Coil, after all, didn't know that I knew. Logically, there was no reason for Unit 09 suspect him. Our teams had never come to blows.

But all that changed if Tattletale survived. A living Tattletale would definitely talk. Hell, even if she didn't want to talk, Caster would make her do it.

And Coil knew that as well as I. If Tattletale lived, Coil had no choice but to escalate. Well, that or pick up his things and run away.

"Where is he?" Bitch demanded.

Surprise, surprise, schemes and plans were not Bitch's thing.

I offered a hand to Angelica. The dog sniffed, licked, and whined. Once she was comfortable I pulled myself atop. Giving the poor girl a pat on the head, I flicked my awareness back to the Neo-Taiping.

The ABB was still in hand. Machina had things under control. A few gangsters had slipped their shackles during the fight, but her men had reclaimed the majority of them. Bạch Hổ, however, was gone. Through my swarm I got one last glimpse of the great cat before it vanished past the edge of my power. Bạch Hổ was headed north, toward the suburbs and the loosely populated woods beyond.

It was meaningless to concern myself with him now.

I buckled on my mask.

"Let's go."

Fireflies lit the way.

We dashed forward as a group.

Brutus took the fore, taloned feet tearing at concrete with every step. Our pace picked up speed. In seconds we were dashing down streets at eighty-kilometers an hour. I could feel the air rushing past my face, the folds of my costume whipping in the wind. Maybe it was just my imagination, but there seemed to be a grim, deathly silence amongst us.

The sniper had a massive head start. My five secondary circuits _thrummed_ in weird state, having traded power once and control twice to obtain a stretched out range. The oddities of my shard worked with me, exaggerating the effects of my power. My reach was half again what it should be, and the loss of control far less than I'd expect.

I wondered at my shard. Had it been moved by my emotions? Or were our thoughts merely in sync? Through my warmed circuits, I could sense the alien thing. An enigmatic pressure throbbing in my skull. A ragged pulse in my circuits. A hole. Deep. Abyssal. A yawning, fathomless void filled with twisting, twining dimensions. Shapes that were not shapes. Colors that could not be seen. Crystalline flesh whose very presence seemed to rend reality.

I jerked my mind away with a shudder. My head pounded. Fragmented thoughts danced like ephemeral petals before they scattered.

A two lane intersection suddenly rushed up on us.

The lights flipped red. I grimaced, frustrated by my distraction. My swarm was thin, the mass dragged out, but I had enough to sense the trio of cars rushing toward us. I opened my mouth to shout. Bitch beat me to it. The butch girl pressed two fingers against her mouth and let out a sharp whistle. Brutus jumped. Beneath me, Angelica lurched. My stomach smashed into my chest. The dogs soared over the intersection, metal cross bars and all. Then, with a gut wrenching jolt, they smashed back down onto the earth.

I pushed my awareness outward.

The sniper's vehicle was two kilometers ahead. The van meandered forward at the speed limit, which ran around forty in these parts. At our current pace we'd catch up fast.

Which meant there was no need for a risky route.

My perception shifted. This time I drew back so I grasped my entire swarm. The sensation of it was somewhat like unfocusing my eyes to take in an entire scene at once. Unpleasant and uncomfortable. But it was the best frame from which to map out the streets. It took a few seconds to find the right path. A place with low traffic and fewer eyes.

In the air, a dozen fireflies flickered to show the way.

Brutus veered right, flashing down a side road before making a hard switchback to the left. In the next instant, we were on a bike path. A minute after that, we were cutting across backyards. Trees zoomed around us. Grue shouted. My head turned. He yelled again. His voice was lost to the howling wind. But I deduced the gist and offered a confident nod in return.

Then I threw my awareness to the fore.

The sniper's van stopped at a red light. I snagged I century of fliers then ran them around the vehicle's back. A quick glimpse gave me the license plate. I doubted it was worth much, but I repeated the number to myself half-a-dozen times to memorize it. While I worked, a score of bugs started poking around the interior.

First thing I noticed? The rifle was missing. Not in the cabin or trunk. But the sniper still had two guns. One on his waist and another in the glove compartment. His whole body reeked of chemical stench. Powder, poison, and sweat. I was tempted to search the man more thoroughly, but I feared doing so would leave me exposed.

"One kilometer ahead!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. I wasn't sure the others heard.

Grue yelled a response. He pointed up. I looked. A group of capes flew overhead, roughly three blocks to our right. New Wave. Shit. They hadn't seen us, but if they were in the area...

 _Weeoo weeoo weeoo!_ Loud sirens roared by on a parallel street. I could see the flashing lights flickering in the passing alleys.

Damn it. "Go. Go. Go!"

My words were wasted, but Bitch must have caught the mood because she leaned into Brutus and kicked up the pace.

Three alien beasts and four riders burst out from a wooded trail. We turned right, claws scampering over a four lane road.

The sniper's van was ahead. The white paint glimmered under yellowed street lights. Slick beasts cut through the night. I saw the sniper start when he saw us in his rear view mirror, but the van cruised on with cool motion. Against anyone else it would've been a good move. Hitting the accelerator would only give him away.

Against me, that tactic didn't change a thing.

It took fifteen seconds to catch up.

Brutus came along the van's side. The demon dog huffed, unleashing thin trails of steam. Bitch leaned in. The massive, biological monster shifted, smashing into its mechanical opponent like a freight train. Metal crumbled inward. The van skewed onto two wheels, wobbled, then tumbled over onto its side. Paint tore. Sparks flew in a cascade. Metal unleashed a terrible screech as the vehicle skidded atop road for a full two score meters.

"Over here!"

Now that we weren't moving, Grue's eerie call was easily heard. The skull helmeted man waved at us from a nearby alley. Bitch grunted, clucked her tongue, then gave a low whistle. Brutus reacted to her command. The giant, alien beast bit down. Sharp teeth sank into the metal van, tearing through steel as easily as a dog would rip through flesh. Brutus steeped back. _Reee_. The van dragged three meters.

Angelica growled then rushed forward to grip the van's rear door. As one, the two beasts pulled the beaten vehicle into the alley.

Grue sealed the entrance in shadow.

Thick smoke boiled up into a wall, blocking off sight and sound. Angelica and Judas pattered around, filling the other end of the path with their great bulk. Angelica let out a whine then rested on her haunches.

At Bitch's prompting, Brutus hopped up on top of the van's side. The monster put a paw on the driver's side window then pried it open. _Clung_. Bolts popped. The gap widened until it was twice its prior size.

The dog's maw reached in through the aperture. Brutus's jaws caught the sniper's arm. The beast stepped back, wrenching the man out of the beaten van. With a twist of his neck, Brutus threw the sniper to the ground.

The sniper hit with a _thud_. His PRT helmet came loose, clattered off asphalt, before rolling to a stop at Angelica's feet.

Bitch's already furious expression turned ugly. "It's the fucking PRT."

The butch girl turned and spat. Brutus circled the sniper slowly, his clawed talons clicking on the pavement. Grue dismounted then folded his arms as he studied the sniper. Regent remained in place, offering no more than a bored yawn.

As for me? I already knew what the sniper looked like. And more than anyone, I wasn't ready to assume his allegiance.

"We don't know who he's working for," I pointed out. "The uniform could be a fake, or this could be a side job."

The sniper wobbled, lifting himself up onto his hands and knees with a sputtering cough. Slowly, he sat up, raising his arms high before slowly folding them behind his head. He looked at us. His expression was cold. Hard. Blood dribbled from his brow, but he showed no sign of noticing. He looked like a solider. Like one of Coil's mercenaries. But I wasn't sure. It felt like I was projecting. Pushing my assumptions into an absence of information.

"What do you want to do with him?" Grue asked, nodding toward me.

"We take him to Caster," I answered instantly.

Was there even a reason to ask? Grue looked at me, as though waiting for me to catch what I missed. I paused, annoyed. Then scowled when it hit me. Yeah. That's right, before dragging him toward the mansion we needed to put him out or tie him up. Preferably both. And that meant...

"Hold him down," I said. I reached for my mask. I _really_ needed a better way to do this.

Before I touched the first buckle, my hands froze.

A motorcycle rumbled on the road, rolling by at close to a hundred-miles-an-hour. Armsmaster flashed past the alley. For a brief second, his headlight reflected shattered glass. Then the Tinker wrenched his vehicle to the side. The motorcycle tilted sixty-degrees. The back tire wheeled around in a squealing skid. He came to a stop.

Armsmaster's gaze shifted. His eyes swept over the fragments left behind when Brutus smashed into the van. Shredded paint. Torn metal. Fragments of glass. His visor rose then rested upon the wall of dark, smoky fog that sealed the alley.

My swarm stirred.

"HQ, I have suspicious activity on 27th. Requesting backup," Armsmaster said in clipped tones under his breath.

The blue armored Tinker swung his leg over the edge of his motorcycle, servos hissing. Armsmaster reached down, gauntleted hands pausing over the first of three halberds mounted to the side of his vehicle. Then he decisively skipped past it to grab the third.

"What is it?" Grue asked, drawing my mind back.

"Armsmaster," I answered nastily.

"Heh. The great halbeard himself," Regent mocked. "We can take him."

"It's not Armsmaster that I'm worried about. It's all the people who'll show up while we're fighting him," I said, frustrated. Surely, after all the shit I had put up with today, I was owed something going _right_ for once?

Grue nodded in agreement. His skull faced mask turned toward his team.

"Regent, help me pack the fellow up. We'll knock him out once we've dragged our PRT friend somewhere nice and quiet."

Regent groaned. The Master turned then started climbing down from Judas' back.

The sniper moved.

A trained man can be amazingly quick. Almost as fast as I could blink, the sniper's hand whipped around the back of his head to his front pocket. I turned and lurched off Angelica's back. In the same instant, my swarm reacted, surging toward the man. The horde I had gathered was thin, but given a good ten seconds it was enough to cover the man entirely.

Unfortunately, I didn't have that much time.

"The – "

I barely got one word out before a metal can _clanked_ off the pavement. The weapon bounded once then – _BANG!_ The world shattered in a wave of sound and light. My vision went blank, my swarm blind. Heavy concussion slammed into me. Deafening noise shook my senses. Halfway off Angelica, I stumbled then crashed onto the ground arms first.

Runes sewn into my costume crackled with life.

Grue recovered before I did. His motorcycle helmet was filled with his smoke. But even then, it was only because I had to pick myself back up onto my feet first.

"Sniper!" I finished.

I needn't have bothered.

The flashbang had torn my gathering swarm apart, but Grue was already in motion. The sniper hit the smoke with a three second head start.

And that was the end of it.

Before that moment, I had never properly appreciated the deadliness of Grue's power. It wasn't just darkness, it was something more. The instant the sniper set foot in the mist he tripped over his own feet. The man wobbled dangerously, caught himself in the stumble, then rammed head first into the alley wall.

Grue tackled him from behind.

The Undersiders' leader pinned the sniper with professional precision, twisting the man's arms around his back before he could recover. Then Grue reached for his belt and did what we should done in the first place, bind the man's hands with plastic cuffs.

Armsmaster approached.

The blue armored cape stopped just outside of Grue's darkness. There was a strangeness to it. The leader of the local Protectorate stood, with calm demeanor while – no more than two meters away – Grue tightened the sniper's cuffs. It was almost as though they were in separate worlds.

Then the head of Armsmaster's halberd started to ring. _Reee..._

The dual prongs of the halberd head trembled, giving rise to a deep resonant note. The thin cloud of insects watching from outside began to drop. _Dong!_ Brutal sound blasted out like a bell. The sky shook. Wave stacked upon wave. Acoustic force formed into a column then crashed into Grue's darkness. Smoke pulsed as though hit. Misty darkness was violently shoved outward and upward. It compressed into itself, then surged into the sky like a shadowy thunderhead.

A tunnel was carved into the smoke. Lingering wisps curled in the air, like floating black silk. Half obscured by the dark, my eyes met those of Armsmaster. Yellowed lenses gazing into blue visor. Light versus dark. Young against old. The law standing against chaos.

In a different circumstance, we might have walked right on by. The relationship between Unit 09 and the Protectorate was cold, but not hostile. At least, that was how I judged things from our last interaction. There was a silent truce of sorts. A recognition that though we were not friends, we were not – explicitly – enemies.

And now that truce was being tested.

I saw Armsmaster's gaze drop. His eyes fell on Grue then the sniper. Blood poured from the man's broken nose. Even with the tufts of shadow, the PRT uniform was as clear as day.

Armsmaster's hand tightened on his halberd. The Tinker's stern lips curled with anger.

Today was officially shit.

"It's not what it looks like," I announced. I knew before I spoke that words were useless.

"Step away from officer," Armsmaster ground out.

Grue's skull faced mask turned toward me. I hesitated. Part of me wanted to try and talk it out, no matter how hopeless. The other didn't trust Armsmaster further than I could throw him. Fake or not, the sniper had shot Tattletale while wearing a PRT uniform.

A fact that had stuck in the Undersiders' minds more than my own.

"It's not what it looks like? It's exactly what it fucking looks like," Bitch interjected. The butch girl's eyes were wild as she stared down from atop Brutus. "You took one of ours, so now we're going to take one of yours."

My eyes widened. "Don't!"

But she wasn't listening. Bitch let out a long, sharp whistle and it wasn't the hurt signal.

"Brutus, kill!"

Brutus lunged. The beast's paws tapped atop the van's beaten frame as it leapt. Two tonnes of demon dog threw itself at Armsmaster. The blue armored cape's expression shifted. The man whirled his halberd. The dual pronged blade quivered. _Reeee!_

The harsh, piercing note was like a knife to the skull. The shrill vibration infiltrated my bones. My vision warped. My teeth gritted. It felt as though my skeleton had been sharpened into points then dragged across a chalkboard.

And if it was bad for humans, the sound hit Bitch's dogs far worse.

Angelica crumbled. With a pained whimper she placed a paw over both ears. Judas went down in a roll. Brutus misstepped. But the dog was already in motion and his momentum was too great. Brutus smashed into Armsmaster like an out of control bus.

The Tinker met the demonic dog head on.

Armsmaster's halberd rose in a sharp slap. The shrill cacophony cut off. Metal struck bone. _Dong!_ A bell exploded, heavy enough to make my heart skip a beat. Air pulsed. Against all odds and physics, Brutus's head was smashed up and around so hard that the dog not only stopped, but rammed into the alley wall.

But the Tinker wasn't done. Armsmaster twisted the haft of his weapon. The dual pronged halberd head popped open like a claw, then shot out. The claw blade blurred toward Grue. Fast, but I was already rushing in and only needed one last step. _Clang! C-zap!_ Taming Sari met the halberd's head with a heavy, metallic ring. Lightning crackled, then rippled down my costume in a current. Runes sizzled hot enough to make me hiss.

The claw bounced off the nearest wall. I reached for my belt. Before I could so much as touch Nanatsu-Yoru, Armsmaster twisted the haft back. The claw's metal cord retracted.

Grue hefted the sniper up then hit the Tinker with a flow of darkness.

Thick currents of shadow drowned the blue armored cape, before expanding out to fill the alley interior. Grue started a hasty walk back as he loosed his column of smoke.

"Fucking bastard," Bitch growled before spitting blood. "I'll kill him. I'm going to fucking kill him."

Brutus peeled himself out of the wall then shook his head. Bitch had been half smashed into the brick. It was only by luck that her leg hadn't been crushed.

"Cool it and pull back," Grue barked. "We're leaving."

"Leaving! We're leaving?" Bitch raved. "They shot Tattletale!"

"And we have the gunman," Grue reminded. "And we can get the rest later, after Caster has had her way with him."

"Right. We're not here to fight the Protectorate. We're here to collect the sniper then go."

I met the butch girl's eyes. My cold, bug-like lenses glinted in the night.

Bitch ground her teeth and growled.

 _Duuummm._

A deep, rumbling, tone rippled out, sounding like the world's biggest gong. The note rose not from the air. Instead, it was birthed from earth beneath our feet. The quivering vibration sank into legs and spine, leaving both numb and shaken. Grue's smoke suddenly bulged, as though it were an inflated sack.

"I think that's as good a sign as any," Grue commented, pulling the sniper faster. He raised an arm and sent out another waft of darkness.

I rushed toward Angelica.

 _Duuummm!_ The gargantuan gong sounded again. The dark cloud swelled out. Fog ripped along the seams, thinning until gaps could be seen through the murk. Though cracks I caught sight of Armsmaster, halberd point trembling like a tuning fork. _Reee!_ The weapon rang with shrill force, the sound somehow dull and distance, as though devoured by the darkness surrounding.

Armsmaster shifted his grip then leveled his halberd like a gun.

Armsmaster twitched. The halberd tip jumped to the right. The Tinker twitched again, but this time it wasn't just his hand that moved. Armsmaster's whole body jumped as though shocked.

"Heh," Regent laughed, his tone cruel and mocking.

The coroneted cape's body jerked. Armsmaster drove himself into a wall.

 _Bang_. Brick shattered under mass and metal. Armsmaster angrily dragged himself out. His halberd snapped up, shaft twisting. Regent jiggled his arm. The weapon's tip suddenly went wide. The claw blade ejected, shooting out like a bullet only to strike a wall three stories up.

 _Weeoo weeoo weeoo!_

Regent's leg muscles pulse, throwing Armsmaster onto his hands and knees. The Tinker growled and tried to rise, only to be buried anew under Grue's shadow. The Undersiders' Shaker was at Judas's side, sniper already hoisted onto the dog's back. Grue flooded the alley, filling the space with complete black as we retreated.

I grabbed a bone spike on Angelica's back and pulled myself up.

Bitch gave Grue's smoke one last glower, then turned Brutus around to face the other direction.

With Regent's spot taken by the sniper, I had to wait until he crawled up behind me. His presence was like a sharp stab in the gut. That was where Tattletale usually sat.

 _She's alive._

Bitch kicked Brutus into motion.

Cop cars marked with a bold PRT whipped by as we burst from the alley. One skidded into a half circle, all but spinning out of control. Fifteen seconds later, the smoke Grue left in the alley puffed, then exploded out. Armsmaster charged after us, his powered armor suit chugging with every motion. On the street parallel to ours, his motorcycle came to life. The bike took off on its own then rushed up behind the Tinker.

Armsmaster mounted his vehicle without missing a single step.

But we already had the advantage of distance.

The PRT cop cars turned, then accelerated toward us, red and blue lights flashing in the night. Grue looked back then lobbed trails of darkness into the space behind us. The puffs ballooned out when they hit, forming clouds of smoke that devoured half the road. Armsmaster made a hard left, jumped a median then skewed back right to evade.

Regent shifted a shoulder. Armsmaster's motorcycle jilted into wobbling skid before steadying anew.

The Tinker loosed one arm from the handle bars then leveled his halberd.

Just in time to run straight into the spider silk line I had prepared.

The thread wasn't thick. The back force hardly more than a heavy jolt before it broke. But that was enough to tug Armsmaster off balance and set his bike into a dangerous shimmy.

By luck, Regent managed to twitch his legs at _exactly_ that moment.

Armsmaster tumbled. His bike flew out from underneath him. The Tinker hit pavement in a long skid, showers of sparks lighting the dark as his armored exoskeleton slid across asphalt.

"Nice shot," Regent lauded.

The Undersiders' Master offered a hand. I gave it a confused glance. Wait. Did he want a high five?

Right then Velocity zigged out of an intersection. The speedster moved at a blur, his red costume no more than a streak. He appeared near me in a flick, pausing for a brief second as he tossed a small, hand sized cylinder in my direction.

 _Puff._

The plastic shell burst, spreading splatters of dark, yellow liquid. The fluid quickly bubbled up, paling as it expanded to a hundred times its prior volume. Half-a-dozen silly string sized strands stuck to my shoulder. Hundreds more struck Angelica's chest and thigh. The massive beast bulled through the hardening foam, ripping free with a jolt heavy enough to make her stumble.

I wasn't nearly so lucky.

The impulse tore me from my seat. Two-thirds of the expanded strands ripped at the start. The rest snapped before I hit ground. Concrete pounded into my shoulder. I rolled. My head cracked against cement. Stars filled my eyes. I tumbled dizzily before coming to a rest seven or eight meters from my starting spot.

I blinked twice then picked myself up, right hand fumbling for Taming Sari.

In the last few seconds, everything had gone straight to hell.

While I was tumbling, Velocity had flickered toward Grue before unleashing a pair of containment foam grenades. The first had struck Judas on the rear legs, trapping him in expanding forth. The second caught Grue on the waist after he'd been thrown from the dog.

Which left Grue with no recourse except to inundate the local space in massive, growing cloud of shadow.

A tactic which proved surprisingly effective. Grue's mist flooded the street. Velocity had been caught in the midst of it. Without sight or sound, the hero could barely move. But the effect was worse than that. Somehow, Grue's smoke pulled at the hero, cutting his speed down a mere fraction of what it was before.

However, that bulwark was a double edged sword.

The darkness cut Grue off from his companions. Neither Bitch nor Regent could function within his smoke. Instead, they were left pinned. With nowhere to retreat, Armsmaster quickly caught up. The Tinker brandished his halberd, unleashing a shrill ring. The trembling note sent shivers through my spine.

Regent's shoulder twitched. Armsmaster jerked, his halberd slamming against dirt. The earth swallowed the vibration. No longer weakened by the sound, Brutus regained his feet. Bitch's mount lunged toward the Tinker. The blue armored cape barely had time to raise his arms to meet him.

Only to be thrown off balance by Regent anew.

The demon dog crashed into Armsmaster, bearing him down onto the ground. Metal screamed in protest. Brutus's great maw bit down. Dagger like teeth met the haft of Armsmaster's halberd. The two begin to wrestle, size and supernatural strength struggling against sci-fi servos.

Angelica came pattering around, stopping beside me. The alien beast's tongue lolled from her jaw as she breathed in and out with heavy huffs.

"Fuck," Regent noised, nursing his right shoulder.

"I'm fetching Grue. Keep him busy," I ordered. I turned and left before the Master could give an answer.

"Better make it fast or my power will start backfiring," Regent called after me.

I dashed into Grue's cloud.

Grue's darkness was like oil. The mist clung to me, thick, slippery. It oozed into my costume, wiggling in through the pores as though it were alive. The slimy substance coated my skin, leaving me cold, empty and numb. It was quiet. A suppressive silence made all the more eerie by the brutal battle taking place just outside. Not a scrap of light made it through. Pitch black. A devouring darkness that left one utterly blind not only in terms of sight but also hearing, smell and – to an extent – balance and touch.

It was as though I were walking through a void.

If it were anyone else, Grue's smoke would be impassible. No different than a vast swamp or a giant wall. But I was not limited to mere eyes.

Though I was blind, I could still sense my swarm. The position of every bug was clear to me, and in return my location in relation to them. Like me, they could not see or smell. But they could fly blindly and clamp onto ground, walls, and flesh. They were like little stars in the night, illuminating everything.

With my horde as a guide, I moved swiftly through the smoke. Grue was ten meters ahead, leg and hip glued to the earth by sticky glops of foam. The frothy substance didn't seem like much, but containment foam was tough, strong, and elastic. Grue pulled against it. The pale yellow glop stretched with his motion then slowly sucked him back into place.

Grue paused, skull helmet focused on the foam pinning him in place. After a few seconds of thought, the Shaker reached for his belt. I was sorely tempted wait until he pulled off his pants, but as enticing as that might be, we were in a rush.

Unsheathing a copy of Nanatsu-Yoru, I approached.

Grue looked up when I was three meters away. Clearly his senses weren't limited within his smoke. Velocity passed by, crossing within a street's width of us. The hero moved using a creepily quick crawl. Velocity's speed, combined with his stilted pauses for thought, made him appear disturbingly like a ghost in a horror film.

I knelt at Grue's side. _Anfang_ _A_ _der_. Prana crackled in my system, then flooded into the blade. My circuits drained in a breath. Vile lines grew like bramble, crisscrossing the world's surface. Grue shadowed mist seemed to fade, dispersed by blighted light. Nanatsu-Yoru flashed. The knife carved through a thin line that slashed through the containment foam.

Pale matter parted.

Grue picked himself up. He patted his leather pants. A large, yellow glop still hung from his hip like a cancer.

"Thanks." Grue's voice was muted and distant. It was as though he were speaking from the bottom of a well.

"Don't mention it." My words were dull, their depth devoured by the black. "We need to break the pursuit." My head turned. "That and bail out – Shit!"

"What is it?" Grue asked in alarm. He was peering off in the distance, skull mask directed toward Bitch and Armsmaster.

"Dauntless just showed up."

"Fuck," Grue cursed.

Grue shot off. For a second, I was tempted to follow. Then I realized that I was just as useful inside the mist as out. My swarm had been building every minute since we stopped. Now I put it to work. A battalion of mosquitoes, backed by an elite squadron of bees and wasps, rose up toward the newly arrived hero. Dauntless didn't even see them coming. One second he was floating down from the sky, glowing shield at the ready, the next he was covered in a swarm of stinging, biting insects.

Dauntless reacted belatedly to my attack. The hero, for all his power, was utterly vulnerable to my swarm. His shield only covered his front. His armor had plenty of gaps. Dauntless defended himself in the only way he knew how, by suddenly accelerating away from my throng. His boots flared white, sending him toward distant heights. Then his arclance lashed out, shooting brilliant lightning through my horde.

Bugs died by the dozen.

Which was pretty much the same as doing nothing at all.

I didn't have a whole lot of time. Sooner or later, Armsmaster was going to call Dauntless toward him, and it'd only take one ring of the Tinker's sonic halberd to obliterate my entire swarm. I had two choices. Judas and the sniper.

Judas, like Grue, was pinned by containment foam. Unlike Grue, Judas was big, strong, and had claws sharp enough to shred steel. The massive beast was already tearing at the hardened material, ripping through the foam and digging up the road to get through it. The monstrous beast didn't need my help. In this darkness, I wasn't sure I'd survive giving it, either.

Which left the sniper.

In our rush, the sniper had never been properly secured. His hands had been hastily bound by plastic cuffs, but his legs were free to do as they pleased. More importantly, we never got around to removing all his equipment.

And the sniper, apparently, carried a lot of equipment. I found the man a good ten meters from Judas, with one shoulder up against a wall. The sniper walked slowly in a half kneel while he worked the plastic cuffs with a hidden knife.

Under the cover of Grue's smoke, there was no need to hide my footsteps. I moved quickly. Despite that, the sniper cut himself free before I could get to him. I paused, then circled cautiously.

The sniper nursed his wrists then moved forward. One step. Two steps. When the man moved to take a third, he walked face first into a decorative fixture. His speed wasn't much, so the blow was more an annoyance than a threat. Or, at least it would have been, if I hadn't been there waiting for a chance to take advantage of his mistake.

I lunged in. Taming Sari swept through the mist, deathly silent. I felt a dull _twack_ when the weapon struck.

The sniper stumbled. I kicked the knife from his hand before he could recover.

Realizing the threat, the sniper quickly jumped back. He looked to either side instinctively. Useless. In this oppressive dark, all advantages belonged to me. Even the sound of our breath had been devoured.

I moved, circling to a new position.

In a fight, there were fundamental factors that couldn't be changed. The most immediately important was that the sniper had half again my mass. If I was stupid and careless, he could turn this into a wrestling match. A wrestling match I'd lose. So a certain degree of caution was warranted. The second major issue was that I wanted him alive. Which meant I needed to injure the sniper without killing him.

And for that, my most potent weapons were useless.

My swarm could kill and harass, but it couldn't subdue. Nanatsu-Yoru would gut the sniper like a fish. Taming Sari was a happy medium, but repeatedly hitting the man upside the head would make him more dead than unconscious. Body blows were out for another reason, the sniper was wearing an armored vest. Add that to the man's advantage regarding size and my arms would probably wear out long before his gut.

That left the joints.

When the sniper moved to my right, I shifted left. My leading foot lashed out in a low side-kick. In the darkness, the sniper didn't get a last second warning. My heel hit the man unprepared on the knee.

I felt the limb shift in its socket.

The sniper dropped. I danced around to his right then jabbed him under the armpit, neatly avoiding his plated vest. The sniper turned like a snake. A wide hook brushed past my cheek. I couldn't have asked for a better chance. I slipped in and caught the man's wrist before the blow could finish, then twisted the sniper's arm into a vicious lock Saber taught.

The sniper strained against my grip. I tightened the pressure then shoved his face against the nearby wall for emphasis.

"Give it up," I ordered. My words were almost a shout, even then I wasn't absolutely certain he could hear. "You can't win. Not here. Not in this."

The large man struggled for a second longer then relaxed. I all but breathed a sigh of relief. In terms of position and leverage, my advantage was perfect. If the sniper wanted to escape, I'd have more than enough time to twist away and snap his arm in three places.

But that didn't mean the sniper couldn't escape. If he was willing to sacrifice his arm, he could drag out this fight for quite a bit longer.

Especially given that I had no way to move him anywhere.

"I have a grenade," the sniper said suddenly. His voice was harsh, echoing, like he was yelling through hundred meter tunnel. "If you don't let go, I'll use it."

My breath stilled. I noticed, too late, what the sniper had used his free hand for. Like he said, he had a grenade. Worse, he'd already pulled the pin out. Was it a bluff? I was no expert when it came to munitions. The grenade he was carrying could be another flashbang, or it could be something more deadly.

I stopped and thought. Time was ticking. The Undersiders were holding their own. Grue's help had come at a time when it was sorely needed, but Dauntless, as I had feared, had gone to Armsmaster for help. The swarm I had gathered had all but been wiped out. With the two heroes joined, the battle had entered a grueling stalemate.

But there was no way that stalemate could continue. New Wave was in the area. More of the Protectorate would show up. Meanwhile, Unit 09 was on the the other side of town. Caster, at a minimum, was committed. Archer was a maybe. Only Saber remained a free agent.

Which would be more than enough. The blonde knight was worth three of Brockton Bay's finest at her worst. The problem, though, was one of timing. Best case scenario was that Archer called her in before he took off with Tattletale. If she rushed, that'd put her at what? Five minutes out? And that was assuming Saber knew where to find us.

I didn't like it. Five minutes was too long. Too risky.

We needed to get back on the move now. I couldn't let the sniper's threat drag this out. Besides, my gut was telling me that he was lying. The facts didn't line up. The sniper had surrendered too quickly when we first caught up. After that, he'd taken every chance to skip out with his life.

Those were the actions of a man who wanted to live, not those of a fanatic ready to die for a cause. Would a man like that blow himself up?

Decided, I twisted his wrist until the sniper's joints were at the breaking point. I could feel the man squirm in my grip.

"You don't have the guts," I said, grimly.

There was a moment of quiet between us. The fly on the sniper's sleeve caught his quiver. The man's hands were sweaty. He was nervous.

"A deal," the sniper finally shouted. "I want a deal."

My expression darkened. I felt a stab of anger. For a second, I contemplated smashing the sniper's skull against the concrete wall.

"Do you think this is a negotiation?" I hissed. I had to restrain myself before I broke the man's arm. "This is how it's going to work. You talk and you talk to Caster. No more trouble. No more bullshit. You play along, and when we're done asking questions, we turn yourself over to the cops. But if try to run one more fucking time, I'll feed you to my bugs."

Then, right after saying it, a dozen roaches bit down. They tore into flesh and tasted blood. The sniper twitched in my grip. At his reaction, I felt an edge of vicious satisfaction.

At that moment it occurred to me that I might not be a good person. Not because I took pleasure at his pain, but because I meant it. I really meant it. If I couldn't bring the sniper with me, I was going to fucking kill him. Right here. Right now.

Maybe the sniper caught that. Maybe he just figured he'd play along. Either way, the man nodded.

I hesitated for a moment, then let him go. After stepping away from me, the sniper shifted the grenade to his now freed hand then readied to put the pin back into the weapon.

Chaos was the heart of combat. Events run out of control. In such conditions, it was inevitable that something stupid would happen. In the darkness, the sniper fumbled the pin. At the same moment, Armsmaster's halberd unleashed a great toll. The concussive wave swept out, smashing aside billowing smoke.

It was only happenstance that the Tinker unleashed that force in our direction.

 _Dong!_

Shadow split. A heavy gust of rammed into my chest, pushing me half a step back. For me, it didn't matter much. But for the sniper, whose hands were covered in sweat, who was already bungling in the dark, the sudden pulse came at the worst possible time.

The grenade slipped.

It fell from the sniper's surprised hand. He stared, pin still in hand, glinting dimly in the now revealed streetlights. There was no sound when the grenade hit. Though Armsmaster's halberd had blown away our cover, smoke still enveloped our shins. In this instance, that depth was like an infinite void, swallowing all sound and sight.

The sniper's expression twisted. Dismay turned into shock. Shock transformed into terror. It wasn't a flashbang, I realized. The grenade was real. I had enough time to complete the thought before –

 _Boom!_

Black mist exploded out. The blast knocked me off my feet. Metal shrapnel pattered against my costume like rain. I hit the earth, still dizzy from the trauma.

The sniper didn't have my protection. His ballistic vest blocked half the metal death. The rest rent every centimeter of flesh still exposed. Skin was ripped apart. Meat was torn from his body in chunks. Blood flowed out in rivers.

I was dazed. Numb. My emotions were scattered. What did I feel? Vindication? Horror? No, I felt confused. Bewildered. How did it turn out like this?

Before I could recover, Armsmaster's halberd shot out toward me. While my mortal mind was in flux, Taming Sari was not bound by such conditions. My body turned in an acrobatic twist. My baton rose with impossible grace. _Clang!_ Metal rang as Taming Sari meet the open claw that was the Tinker's fired weapon. The shock jolted me from my funk.

Just in time for the halberd head to clamp down.

 _Zzzt!_ Thunderous current sparked. Electric flux roared through my baton. Lightning shot over my costume before sinking into the earth. Taming Sari heated. The hilt grew warm then hot. The metal glowed red hot.

Armsmaster twisted the halberd haft. The ejected head retracted. I grit my teeth against the pain and wrenched back.

Lightning flared. Dauntless's arclance struck me in the stomach.

The hero's weapon was more than mere thunder. It was physical force. Electricity and lance in one. The weight of it was like a punch to the gut. Air exploded out of my lungs. My hand loosened. I watched, helpless, as Armsmaster reeled my weapon in.

Judas, guided by Grue, lunged out of shadow. Armsmaster plucked Taming Sari from the clamped halberd head then swung his weapon around. _Dong_. The halberd hit with a bell's pulse, softer this time for lack of build up. Judas staggered. Grue unleashed a pillar of smoke.

Dauntless's arclance flashed, striking Grue's shoulder with electric force. The hero descended, shield at the fore. The energy barrier crackled when it hit the smoke, then burned a path straight through it.

 _Dong!_ Armsmaster halberd let out another bell ring, sending darkness fleeing in all directions. But by then, Grue had already vanished back into the mist. But I could still sense him through my swarm. He was looking at me.

"Don't," I said to his unspoken query.

The Undersiders were already half beaten. Bitch was banged up to the point she could hardly cling to Brutus's back. The dogs were worn from the long fight. Regent's power had been used to its limit. Most important of all, Miss Militia and Triumph were thirty seconds out.

Dauntless floated back, his armored boots crackling with brilliant light. The hero stopped over the sniper's corpse, which incidentally put Dauntless right next to me.

Dauntless nudged the sniper with his spear.

"Uh, Armsmaster, I think he's dead."

Armsmaster's already unpleasant visage turned grim. The Tinker strode over with heavy _chungs_. Armsmaster reached down and grabbed my costume by the back of the neck. I made no motion to resist as he dragged me up onto my feet.

"Tell Archer not to do anything stupid. I'll be fine," I ordered toward the empty mist.

Armsmaster jerked me toward the open street.

"Quiet," he growled.

"What about them?" Dauntless asked, pointing at the silent darkness.

"The Undersiders are masters of escape," Armsmaster countermanded. "We don't have the manpower capture them and hold her."

 _Weeooo Weeoo_. A PRT van came skidding to a stop. Miss Militia and Triumph stepped out along with two agents.

Triumph's eyes widened when they caught sight of me. "We caught one of Unit 09?"

Miss Militia looked at Armsmaster questioningly. The Tinker dragged me toward the back of the van.

"There's a dead body, call it in," he said. The Tinker pulled open the van's back doors then pushed me inside.

"You have the right to remain silent," he said, gruffly while cuffing me in place. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."

As I sat in silence, nobody noticed the phone I had long ago turned on.

-oOo-


End file.
